A B C's of Love
by Cohen101
Summary: oOo N is for Neurotic oOo Mondler through the years.
1. A is for Amazing

**_A B C's of Love_**

**A/N: Had to do homework, so I did what I usually do in that predicament. Wrote Mondler. Going to be a bunch of short drabbles through-out Monica and Chandler's relationship… MondlerStealth, MondlerMarriage, MondlerBeforeMondlerness, MondlerJackErica. Pretty self-explanatory. There is sort of a bigger picture thing going on. Tell me what you think and whether or not to go on with this.**

_ A is for Amazing_

Monica held Chandlers hand, holding it tighter then she'd ever held anything. There was no way that he was going to leave her now, but lying on the bed, hooked up to all sorts of scary machines that did things she didn't have the mind capacity to remember, things didn't look good. It was surreal, sitting in the hospital, the said machines beeping away the rhythm of his very life.

The first trip to the building only had one machine associated with it… the IV that dripped some form of liquid into him, keeping him hydrated one way or another. He'd joked about it on his way to the bathroom, saying he didn't want to do his business with his "Pole-ish" boyfriend watching. The nurse who was in fact a native Pole muttered a few choice Polish words and left the room.

That was Chandler – trying to make light of a serious situation. When the doctors started listing the medication that would keep his heart and his organs functioning, he began to create his own medicines, asking the dazed pharmacist for thing such as Zamborines and Xdegradles.

It felt like a million years ago now, and Chandler was growing weaker though he stubbornly refused to give up his jokes and sarcasm. Monica knew as long as he had those, he had hope.

Her eyes felt heavy, and she watched him breathe, the steady rise and dip of his chest giving her reassurance that he was in fact, still alive. He was sleeping – he could tell because minutes ago his breathing had slowed and become louder, his body twitching every now and then in response to a dream he was living in another dimension.

The doctors didn't know what was wrong with him, or why his body was acting the way that it was and it worried Monica to think that even specialists and professionals couldn't decide what the root of the problem was. She clutched his hand tighter, hoping he wouldn't wake up from the pressure. He'd been getting so much sleep lately, it seemed that it was all he was doing.

Monica held her hand, smiling as she ran her hand through his almost white hair. They'd been through everything together it seemed, and he'd been there for almost as long as she could remember…

Sitting in the hospital waiting for something to happen gave her a lot of time to think… a lot of time to remember.

aAa

Chandler was sitting on the couch, watching the television through drowsy eyes. It was four in the morning and he was watching a cartoon about deranged animals with mutations on mute, rocking a fussy Jack holding a bottle with his free hand.

The neon yellow rat with strips jumped up and emitted shocks of what he hoped were lightening, and he couldn't even find the strength to change the channel. Jack gurgled and Chandler looked down at him.

"I bet you were old enough to understand TV, eh?" he asked, then waited for a response. Jack didn't respond and Chandler had already forgotten what he'd said.

"You see this?" Chandler asked, shaking the formula. "This usually comes from mommy's boobies, but you were adopted, so we're using a specialized formula made just for you."

Jack looked up blankly at him.

"Did you know my first word was penis?"

Still nothing.

Chandler stood up, knowing Monica would kill him if she knew he was muttering such vulgar words to their son. When he glanced down he saw that Jack was on the verge of crying so he quickly sat down again, not wanting to go through another ear-splitting crying ordeal.

"Guess what?" he asked the infant child, bobbing him gently with one arm, "Uncle Joey's coming tomorrow. He's daddy's best friend, and he's going to bring lots of presents for you and your sister. Aren't you excited?" Chandler cooed, but Jack moved his tiny head away from the empty bottle and yawned a tinny little yawn, signaling his gradual slip into unconsciousness.

Jack's yawn triggered Chandler's while he stood up. He looked around the empty room, feeling very at home with all the furniture aligned perfectly, and his daughter and wife sound asleep on the floor above him. Jack snuggled into his arm contently and Chandler smiled down at him, "Yeah," he whispered softly, love for the small boy exploding in his heart, "I'm really excited too."

He took the empty bottle to the kitchen and quietly placed it in the sink; Jack had just been hungry, which accounted for the crying. He looked at the bottle but knew better then to wash it himself – that was Monica's job. He was the drying guy, and she was the washing gal. It'd always been like that.

He walked up the stairs, already familiar enough with the layout of their house in Westchester to walk the path in the darkness. He hoped that Monica wouldn't be awake – he'd woken up before Jack's crying even stirred her, taking him downstairs so that the new mother could get some uninterrupted sleep.

She was absolutely amazing with the twins, and he loved standing in the kitchen doorway when she didn't know he was there, watching her as she multi-tasked like only a woman knew how, getting everything done and keeping the twins happy. He knew she loved every minute of it, but everyone needed a break once in a while and she was no exception. It was his gift to her.

The second he walked through the door he knew his efforts had been in vain, Monica sitting up with a slightly worried look on her face. She smiled when she saw him in the door, lying back down on the bed relieved as Chandler bent over the crib and placed Jack down beside his sister.

He made his way across the room and under the covers, instantly squirming over to her side of the bed.

"Chandler," she whined sleepily as his icy legs wrapped around hers, stealing her warmth.

"What?" he asked innocently, pulling his face into a boyish pout. She laughed at him, cuddling up in his arms as he held her tightly.

"What were you doing with the twins?" she asked quietly on the verge of sleep. She was working from home so she could care for the twins, catering food as Chandler continued on his advertising gig. They were both doing something they loved, and that alone made Monica happy.

Chandler kissed Monica's head, smiling at her question. "Feeding Jack. I didn't want to wake you up, so I decided to do it myself."

Monica leaned away from Chandler so that she could see his face, and there was a genuine smile lighting it up. "Chandler…" she started, but the words left her. She was overwhelmed by the rush of emotions she felt towards him, not understanding why it effected her so. "That's… you're amazing," she whispered, her eyes beginning to tear either from his thoughtfulness or from being open for too long. "Thank-you."

Chandler didn't know where her gratitude came from but it was making him uncomfortable. "Don't worry about it," he muttered, taking the praise the only way he knew how and deflecting it, "It was nothing," he muttered, feeling his own eyes growing heavy. He filled his face with Monica's hair, finding her hand under the covers and taking hold of it gently. "I love you," he whispered, kissing her softly again. He closed his eyes, hearing Monica's light,

"I love you too," before he blacked out.

Monica snuggled closer to Chandler, her love for the man growing more and more everyday they were together.

That morning after Chandler ate the breakfast Monica made him and bid his wife and the twin's farewell, Monica marched downstairs to do the dishes, finding them already done and neatly stacked away to dry. She smiled at Chandler's small gesture, peering into the sink to see if he'd washed it clean of soap studs.

There, in soap writing, was a note,

_No – you're amazing. _

_I love you, forever and always._


	2. B is for Bravery

_**A/N: Here's chapter two. For this story I probably won't be doing a lot of author notes, but thanks to all that reviewed. I don't say it enough, but I love every single one that I get, and I appreciate them all. Thank you very, very much. **_

_**If anyone has an idea that they would like to pitch to me for this story or a one-shot, go ahead and either PM me or put it in a review, I'd love to hear any and all suggestions, so feel free :) Not that I'm choking or anything, just feel free. **_

_**Thank you all once more.**  
_

_B is for Bravery_

She woke up wide-eyed and confused. What had woken her at… four in the morning? Had she heard something? She listened and heard the sound of the television being turned on. It was too early in the morning for anyone to be over, and a burglar wouldn't turn the TV on, she rationalized.

Who could it be? She hesitantly got out from under the covers, images of the horror movie she'd watched hours ago with the rest of her friends flashing through her mind. She got up and put on her bathrobe, walking tentatively towards the door.

It was Rachel, she decided, forcing the silhouette of a child serial killer lounging on her couch from her mind. Maybe she had a bad dream from the movie, or was trying to deal with a problem that she hadn't yet shared with Monica. She opened the door, squinting as the artificial light of the TV hit her eyes.

It wasn't Rachel, but a guy, lying on the couch, flipping through channels mindlessly. "Chandler?" Monica asked, and the guy turned his head to her.

"Hey," he answered, smiling his crooked smile. Monica walked over and sat by him.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, running her fingers through his hair. He wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her in tightly.

He pulled her down to him, and she leaned against him with her hands on his chest. She looked up at him, staring into his crystal blue eyes. "I wanted to be with you," he said shyly, putting a hand on her hair and leaning forwards for a kiss. Wasn't it obvious?

"Rachel might come out," she warned breaking it off, nuzzling her face into his pj's. They smelled like the soap she liked to buy for her and Rachel's apartment, which probably meant either him or Joe took a bar from their bathroom.

Chandler's face screwed up as he searched for a liable reason for his presence, "We could just say that you had a bad dream and asked me to come here and be with you."

Monica shook her head, "But she's my roommate. Wouldn't it be logical to wake her up before going across the hall and asking for you?"

"Well, three in the morning sounds like a good excuse for abandoning logic to me," he countered, "Besides, you know how grumpy Rachel gets this early…"

They both smiled, remembering the chick incident, and every other time Rachel came out of her bedroom with her hair in a fuzzed mess, holding her hands up and distributing the death glare among all the living room occupants. "That's true," she said, resting her body on his, putting her head down on his chest.

Chandler subconsciously began to rub small circles on Monica's lower back, tickling her as his fingers trailed to create random patterns. Monica relaxed, the motion calming her muscles and the quiet thud of Chandler's heart creating a soothing atmosphere.

A small shadow flashed from the street, and Monica was roughly jolted from her dozing state. She lifted herself up, wondering how long it had been, and looked curiously at Chandler, who laughed nervously, "I thought there was something inside the apartment."

She smiled at how cute he looked; now knowing the full reason behind his visit. "Why did you really come here Chandler?" she asked softly, running her hand through his hair. He looked surprised by her question.

"Because I- I wanted to, to be with you?" he mumbled, tripping over his words. Monica smiled. The more she knew and learned about Chandler, who he really was - the easier it was to give him a hard time.

"Are you scared about the movie?" she teased him, giggling in the slightest as he visibly turned a shade of a color that held she couldn't see through the darkness. "Death will come," she whispered in a foreboding tone, mocking the main character in the movie they'd seen.

"I am not scared of that stupid movie!" Chandler protested indignantly, shushing the instantly Monica glared at him.

"If you wake Rachel up, so help me-"

"I'm not scared of that stupid movie!" Chandler repeated quieter, taking the finger that was pointed threateningly at him and wrapping his own around it like a child. "I'm brave," he muttered to himself, playing with his fingers.

"It sounds like you're trying to convince yourself a little more then me," Monica commented, and Chandler shrugged, and after a second looked up at her with a grin on his face.

He pulled her back onto him, putting his arm protectively around her shoulders, "I see what you're doing," he replied smugly, nodding his head knowingly.

Monica looked up at him surprised, "And what is that?" she asked, playing along to his game.

"You're the one that's actually scared, so you don't want to feel alone. I'll protect you," he promised with a wink, "Don't worry one bit about it."

Monica was unable to contain her yawn, "So-so, so… so that's what I'm doing, is it?" she asked coyly, and Chandler nodded, 'mhmm'ing. "Well then you better protect me very, very well mister," she warned, getting even more comfortable in his arms, turning to face the television. Chandler did the same, smiling.

He knew that he faced a rough day tomorrow from his friends for being bothered by the movie. He didn't mind at the moment and when he noticed Monica beginning to drift away, he attempted to pick her up even though she was mostly lying on him. "Monica," he urged gently when he predictably failed, and she groaned in protest.

"Monica, we should go to your room or something…" he whispered, eyeing Rachel's door with distain. Sometimes he wished that he lived alone, or that Monica lived alone, so that they could be alone with each other all the time.

"Who cares," she whispered back lazily, and Chandler's eyes widened as Monica's closed. Monica didn't care if they got caught? This was a surprising twist. He felt her twitch, and knew that she was beginning to realize the consequence of staying out here.

"Maybe we should go back," she said after a while although she didn't make any move to get up.

Chandler adjusted himself so that they could lie on the couch comfortable. This still entitled a large portion of "Monica" to be resting on him, but he didn't mind it. And neither did she apparently. He rested his head on hers, and flipped off the TV, "I don't think I would be able to move now, even if I wanted to."

"I'll protect you from the scary child," Monica muttered, clearly walking distance from the land of the dead.

"I'll protect you," Chandler repeated, mocking Monica playfully.

She moaned something undecipherable, and then she was asleep. Chandler followed her shortly after, closing his eyes and thanking God that she was in his life for the umpteenth time.

bBb

The heart rate monitor Chandler was hooked up to began to beep a little faster, but not fast enough to cause any alarm. Monica was instantly aware of the change in rhythm, scolding herself when she realized Chandler was awake and she'd been day dreaming.

"Hey," he whispered, in a hoarse voice she was slowly starting to get accustom to. It didn't sound like her old Chandler, but she was happy that he was talking. They'd upped his meds a bit a couple hours ago, and the drugs had made him sleepy. Glancing at his bedside table, she saw that it was only three in the afternoon – a time during which Chandler usually was up and about, roaming the hospital to the constant distress of the nurses. He was still quite childish at times, and Monica knew it was a coping mechanism, and it had helped her more then once get through the day.

"Hey honey," Monica whispered, instantly awake. She ran her hand through his slowly thinning hair, smiling at him lovingly.

Chandler lifted up his hand and placed it on top of Monica's, halting the petting motion that it was making. "If I knew you wanted a dog this bad, I would've caved when the kids were whining for one," he commented, his attempt at joking not lost on her. He laced his fingers through hers, grinning at her mischievously, "Hey, do you think the nurses will have a problem with letting me keep a pup in here?" he asked, raising his eyebrows.

"I think the nurses have enough heart attacks dealing with you to let you even _thinking _of any type of animal," Monica replied, smiling. "How are you feeling today?" she asked delicately, turning to a more serious topic. This was how they functioned. Chandler covered the denial part for both of them, and Monica dealt with the worrying portion for both of them.

"I'm feeling a little better," Chandler said truthfully, and Monica sighed a breath of relief. He stopped playing with her fingers and looking up into her eyes. "While we're alone, we should really discuss-"

Monica placed her finger on his lip, ending the discussion before it began. "Please," she pleaded weakly, "Not now Chandler. Please, not now." She didn't have strength enough for this, not now, probably not until the last possible moment. She chastised herself briefly for allowing herself to think that way, instead letting her mind wrap around how brave Chandler was. She knew he was only putting up a strong front for her benefit, and was grateful for it.

She wouldn't have lasted this long if what she knew was what she saw everyday.

He stared at her for a moment then nodded silently. He hated himself because of what he was doing to her – the worry he was causing her. He couldn't do anything about his situation, but he knew that she was hurting with him, which was why he never talked about the pain he was feeling every waking moment. It wasn't worth it to see the devastated look on her face, and he'd taken to tactfully sending her out of the room when a new doctor would come in and asked him to explain what he was feeling and what he was doing to stop feeling that way.

He loved her too much to let her see him suffer this way, so he did his best to hide it. Hopefully it was working. A jolt inside him seemed to rock his stomach from side to side but he bit back the pain, grinning up at his wife, sitting up determinedly.

He was ready to go cause mayhem in the world of nursing, wondering how many he'd be able to go through this time during his stay.

"Chandler-" she started, just as she used to say to their son when he pouted about bed time.

He bounced as excitedly as an old man could, reminding her of just that, "How about we go pilfer the peeing cups?"


	3. C is for Childishness

_C is for Childishness_

cCc

Monica set the roast beef she was making for dinner in the oven, hoping that everything would be ready in time. Beginning to rip the Romanian lettuce apart, she smiled softly, thinking of how much things had changed since Phoebe had moved in.

She didn't work every opportunity she could in order to pay the rent, and it was a lot less lonely with a roommate. She was hosting dinner in what seemed to be becoming a tradition among the two of them, her brother, Ross, and her next door neighbor, Chandler, who was currently roommate… less.

Images of her accidental removal of his toe shot through her mind at lightening speed, and she focused on the satisfying crunch the lettuce made as she tore it. There was a knock on the door and she forced herself to swallow her embarrassment of years ago, shouting out, "It's open!"

The door opened without a hitch, and she turned around to greet Chandler, surprised. She was expecting Phoebe – it was still a little early for people to start coming; her pulse began raise, nothing was ready yet!

"Hey," she said surprised, and Chandler grinned at her. "I'm sorry; I didn't know you were coming so early," she explained, glanced at the clock to make sure that she wasn't behind. It was only five, which meant that there was an hour until dinner was officially served. So she wasn't being tardy, Chandler was just super early. That relaxed her nerves a bit.

"That's okay," Chandler shrugged, smiling at her, "I got off work early and had nothing to do… mind if I engage in the doing of nothing here?" he asked, and Monica nodded,

"Go ahead."

She turned back to her salad, surprised when she felt Chandler standing closely behind her. He was acting a little odd – he never knocked before he came in, and he seemed a little less deflated then usual.

"What are you doing?" he asked softly, peering curiously over her shoulder.

There was something else he rarely ever did. Inquire about her cooking. He was usually the eat-don't-ask type of guy. "Tearing lettuce… interested?" she asked, offering him the head she was currently working on.

"No," Chandler declined, backing away with a slightly weary look on his face, "I'll screw it up and end up grounded for the rest of the night again."

"Well normal people don't throw noodles on the wall!" Monica muttered her defense, and Chandler laughed. She quickly diverted her attention to the task at hand. Maybe grounding Chandler had been a little bit of an overreaction on her part, but seriously, what sort of people in their twenties threw noodles on the wall to see if they were ready and then forgot about them for the next three days?!

"Well normal people don't throw noodles on the wall!" Chandler repeated in a high pitch voice. Monica turned to him, glaring.

"Do you want to get grounded again Mister?" she demanded, and Chandler's eyes opened wide. It took him a second to get his composure under control, but when he did he barked out instantly,

"Sir, no sir!" standing at attention.

Monica rolled her eyes and decided she was feeling a little childish herself. She took the hand he held to his forehead, "How about you be a good little boy and sit on the couch while Monica cooks you a good boy supper?" she asked in her baby voice, and Chandler laughed.

"Aye-aye Warden!"

Monica turned away and finished tearing up the lettuce portion of the salad, hearing Chandler cross over to the couch and turn the television on. She took the bowl and turned around, dropping it and screaming when Chandler appeared no more then two feet away from her.

He stared at her like a deer caught in headlights, rooted to his spot on the ground, frozen.

It took her a second to regain her breath, but when she did she glared at Chandler, positively furious. "What?" she snapped, and Chandler pulled himself together.

"Uh…" he said nervously, bending down to pick up the bowl that had miraculously not broken when it hit the ground.

They were both shaken, and Monica found herself forgive his abrupt appearance a smidgen. She bent down with him, helping him gather bits of lettuce with her hands. When she looked up and saw that Chandler's face was mere centimeters away from hers she halted all respiratory action.

Their eyes locked and they both stayed motionless and silent. She never realized how pretty his eyes were before, had never been this close to him. They were deep and full of emotion, like little shards of icicles, which cluttered around the warmth radiating from the centralized black spot.

For a second it seemed like time stopped, her and Chandler, of all people, tied up in a moment of pure understanding and connection.

Chandler was the first to break away, his cheeks flushing slightly as he took the bowl in both hands. "Sorry," he muttered awkwardly, wiggling away from Monica on the balls of his feet, standing up. Monica lingered in the moment for a second longer, snapping to and picking up the lettuce she'd dropped.

"Sorry," Chandler apologized again, this time more like himself and extending a gentlemanly hand towards her.

She glanced at his hand and then up at him, taking it gently. "Sorry about that," Chandler muttered yet again as he pulled Monica up. Monica smiled, squeezing his hand before releasing it.

"That's okay," she said warmly, putting the beginnings of her salad in the bowl and taking it to the sink for a good clean.

Chandler came up behind her, leaning backwards against the counter watching her turn on the water and start to disinfect the salad bowl. "Uh,- I'm sorry," Chandler repeated, folding his arms unsure of what to do with his body.

"Chandler," Monica said, interrupting his fifth apology in the time span of thirty seconds, "I said it was okay. Just try to not do that again," she added with a touch of playfulness. Her heart was just beginning to slow down. She could tell that Chandler was flustered by what happened, but it remarkably didn't bother her too much.

"It's just that… I came to tell you that… I'm sorry," Chandler whined again, reminding Monica of a three year old, obviously feeling guilty for surprising Monica, or the moment they'd shared. Either or. It struck her that she was acting a little aloof, and she set out to reconcile herself.

"Chandler," Monica warned, cutting off another apology. He shut his mouth and Monica dropped the bowl, taking Chandlers hands gently. "It's okay," she insisted. Chandler looked away, and Monica gave him a hug, which he surprisingly returned warmly. She realized that it was the first time she'd hugged him, and was surprised to find that she liked the feeling. "Don't worry about it," she whispered, not knowing herself if she was talking about the bowl or their… connection.

It was enough for Chandler, and when they parted he took a rag from the counter. He bent down on the floor as the door opened and Phoebe waltzed through, throwing her signature oversized bag onto the counter. Monica eyed its position with distain while greeting Phoebe, "Hey!"

Phoebe put up her hand, closing her eyes, "Sh!" she ordered sternly. Monica exchanged looks with Chandler, who shrugged and made a loony gesture with his hands. Phoebe hummed for a second then made an odd noise, shaking her head and opening her eyes. "What did you want?" she asked as if nothing had happened, turning to Monica.

"Uh, just… hi?" Monica asked, a bit frazzled.

"Chandler!" Phoebe shouted suddenly, and Monica laughed as Chandler jumped up and slipped on a wet piece of lettuce, crashing into a chair and landing on his butt.

"Thanks for the ass kicking, Pheebs," Chandler commented grudgingly, rubbing his bottom, and Phoebe smiled.

"You're very welcome Mr. Bing!" she exclaimed, taking her bag, to Monica's great relief, from the counter. She had a habit of leaving things lying around, but was getting better at it, probably in large thanks to Monica's nagging. "Call me when dinner's ready!" she shouted through her door, and Chandler made some sort of noise to show they'd heard her.

"So what did you want to tell me?" Monica asked, cutting up tomatoes for the salad. She turned around when Chandler didn't answer to find the man staring at the table. "Chandler?" she asked a little louder, and he looked up at her surprised.

"What?" he asked, clearly oblivious to what was happening around him.

"What did you want to tell me? Before?"

"OH! I just- I got a new roommate. The picture guy didn't show, so it's going to be this guy named Joey Tribbianni. I just wanted you to know," he finished sheepishly, and Monica smiled.

"You can bring him to dinner if you want," she offered hesitantly, and Chandler nodded. He found that after his last roommate, he'd grown oddly protective of Monica. It wasn't weird or anything, but she was sort of like the little big sister he never had. Monica continued to cook and Chandler couldn't resist,

"And taste you're food? If I wanted to kill him I'd do it with a pillow and a tie. Do it classy," Chandler teased, and Monica turned around, a knife in her hand.

"How classy would it be if _I _killed _you _because you didn't go sit on the couch like you were told?!" Monica threatened and Chandler shot up from his seat and jumped over the couch, landing on his back. "Chandler!" Monica whined, seeing the trail of dirt from Chandler's shoes and not at all surprised by his actions.

Honest to God he was a three year old sometimes, but she could deal with that. What she couldn't deal with was the fact her couch had dirt on it and she'd cleaned it this morning. "At least take your shoes off before you do things like that!"

"Yes Chef!"


	4. D is for Destiny

_D is for Destiny_

"We're ready for your husband now, Mrs. Bing," the nurse called softly, and Monica nodded, getting her bearings straight. She determined she must have dozed off, and she stood up from the chair, steadying herself as a bout of head-rush caught her off guard. Placing a hand on Chandler's arm for balance, she leaned down and placed a soft kiss on his forehead as he slumbered on, clutching her purse close to her chest while backing away slowly.

He looked so peaceful, his short, almost pure white hair sticking up oddly, a small smile plastered on his face as the nurse unclipped the safety lock on the wheels.

"Wait!" Monica shouted suddenly, the nurse jerking to a fearful stop. There was a hint of hysteria in the woman's voice that made her heart stop. She turned around slowly, a painful smile stretched across her lips.

"Yes Mrs. Bing?" she asked tersely.

Monica walked forward and gently placed her fingers on the fine silver chain around Chandler's neck, lifting his head as gently as she would a newborns, removing it from his neck delicately. The gold band that the chain was threaded through was meticulously clean and shiny, and the nurse eyed it appreciatively.

Monica placed the chain around her own neck, and it gently bumped her own wedding band, which was placed around her neck in the same fashion. The engagement ring she always wore, but they'd both agreed to place their wedding bands on the chains. "I love you," she whispered to her senseless husband, kissing him on the forehead again.

The nurse nodded at her, "It's a good thing you remembered, that would have wrecked havoc with the MRI."

"Yeah," Monica agreed softly, her eyes on Chandler only. He was going off for another test. They would wake him up before he went in, but it was his wish that Monica stay in their room. She didn't have the strength to fight him on it, and only hoped that this would be the one that would give some insight to their plight.

Monica thumbed the engagement ring on her ring finger thoughtfully, sitting down on the semi-comfortable plastic and cushion chair, already missing the familiar bulk of the hospital bed. She glanced down when her nail snagged on the one and a half caret diamond, and she stared at it. It was so beautiful, so sparkly and white… the diamond ring that Chandler had given her all those years ago…

dDd

"Sex on the balcony!" Chandler exclaimed, flaring his arms and flapping them dramatically. Monica opened her eyes and stared.

It wasn't that cold outside, signs of summer still lingering in the dark night. Monica looked around at the blankets and pillows Chandler had assembled, eyeing them with distain. "Are those touching the ground?" she asked with an air of warning in her voice.

Chandler proudly walked over and wrapped his arms around Monica's shoulders, snuggling into her neck, "No," he said smugly, "I put garbage bags on the ground so that they wouldn't get dirty."

"And you thought doing that by doing this I would agree to sex on the balcony?" she asked dryly.

Chandler shrugged and took her hand, leading her to the ledge, "One may have been hopping that it might sway your opinion a little," he answered innocently and Monica shook her head, looking out over the view briefly before turning back to Chandler.

"No," she said bluntly and Chandler sighed heavily.

"I'm never going to get it, am I?" he asked with a hint of whining, and Monica nodded, smiling.

"See, now you're beginning to understand," she flirted, kissing him softly on the lips. He made a sound of interest, and Monica pulled away, putting a silencing finger on his lips. "This, in no way, is going to lead to foreplay for sex on the balcony," she reminded, and Chandler pouted.

"No way?" he asked, and Monica nodded, wrapping her arms around his neck.

"No, way," she confirmed between kisses. His arms snaked around her waist and before she knew it, she was on the ground, resting comfortably on Chandler. After a second the need for oxygen transcended them, and they broke apart, smiling through the dim light at each other.

Monica snuggled her head onto Chandler's chest, sliding off of him so that she was tucked under his warm arm. A cool wind blew across them, sending shivers down her spine. Chandler reached over her for a blanket and covered her with it, propping his head up with a pillow and kissing her head softly.

She looked up at the stars, the ones she could see, thinking of how brilliant the great balls of gas looked, millions and billions of miles away. She felt Chandler begin playing with her fingers and she smiled. The stars had always and would always be there, just like Chandler had always and would always be there for her.

He began to fixate on her ring finger, turning her engagement ring over again and again, and a thought struck her mind. "You'll have to tell me the engagement ring story sometime," Monica whispered, not drowsy, but simply… utterly and undeniably content.

Chandler stopped his fondling abruptly, "Uh?"

"You know," Monica coaxed, "The one that Phoebe raves about when she's downed one too many. About how you almost married her because she was dying?"

"Oh!" Chandler laughed at the memory, cuddling closer to Monica. That had been one of the most stressful days of his life, finding that ring for her. It seemed odd that the couple actually agreed to give it to them, almost like fate wanted it to happen despite Mother Pheebs' greatest obstacles. Not that he was complaining or anything…

"What?" Chandler asked, sensing that Monica had gone quiet from a thought that bothered her.

"Why did you try so hard?" Monica asked, now that the question was asked, she'd realized it been bother her for ages, "I would have said yes no matter what the ring… why did you try that hard?"

Chandler bit his lip nervously as Monica took his hand in hers and looked up at him. "Uh, well…" A joke about miners flew through his mind and he was briefly reminded of the Seven Dwarfs and Snow White before it occurred to him that this was Monica. He didn't have to get out of it, because she wouldn't make it uncomfortable for him. He already was, but that was his fault, not hers.

"It was the ring that I could see myself proposing to you with. I knew it was the one," he mumbled, smiling shyly, but Monica saw through it.

Her curiosity was sparked and she propped her elbows up on the blanket, resting her chin on his chest. "Really," she prompted softly, and Chandler felt his resistance slowly failing.

"It's… the sapphires," he admitted, feeling stupid. "The two sapphires on each side of the diamond. They reminded me of your eyes; the way that they sparkle when you laugh. It made me feel… I don't know, warm inside I guess. I wanted to give it to you, because I knew for sure that I wanted to marry you when I saw it. I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you, and I knew the ring would be a symbol of that. It seemed so… you."

"When Pheebs and I got it, I knew that it was what I wanted. To be with you, I mean. It felt that if I screwed that up, we'd be doomed to be failures. Or at least, I would," he hastily added.

Monica took what he'd told her in softly, crawling closer to him. "Do you believe in soul mates?" she asked quietly, and Chandler looked surprised by the question.

Well, that was out of left field.

"No," he answered automatically, and Monica nodded. He hesitated a second before saying, "Well. I don't know. Not really, I didn't before. But now, I guess just a little. In fate and destiny, sort of I guess. But don't tell anyone," he added with genuine concern and Monica laughed at his silly paranoia.

"I do," she said softly, Chandler's eyes registered surprise and then warmth and love. "Can I tell you a secret?" she asked childishly, and Chandler nodded, wrapping her in a hug and getting as close as he possibly could to her.

"I think I've found mine," she whispered.

Chandler smiled, "Can I tell _you _a secret?" he asked shyly, and Monica giggled lightly,

"Of course."

"I think I've found mine too."


	5. E is for Everything

_E is for Everything_

"Are you always such a silly little boy, Mr. Bing?" she asked sharply and Chandler looked down in guilt. Monica had to fight herself to keep from laughing, Chandler's obviously fake emotion making it even more difficult. The nurse seemed to accept his silent apology and stormed out of the room without a second thought.

Chandler looked up at Monica, his face breaking out into a grin,

"Five bucks says she'll never be back."

eEe

"It was nice meeting you too Jared!"

"It's Philip, daddy," Erica said shortly, sending her father a death glare. Chandler smiled obliviously and waved her and her boyfriend out, flashing his teeth mockingly to the poor tall boy that followed his eldest daughter out the door. Monica took one look at Chandler's face and shut the door quickly before he could say anything else offending. She looked through the window to see Erica consoling a dejected Jared – _Philip_! she reminded herself sternly – down the walkway.

"Five bucks says he'll never be back," Chandler commented smartly, nodding his head. The look fell off his face as Monica spun around to face him.

"Chandler-" she started, but Chandler beat her to the punch, holding up his one hand in protest while his other snaked around her waist, and asking sweetly,

"Monica. Before I receive the third degree, can I just say one thing?"

Monica glanced at his puppy dog face for a second then sighed, giving into his plea, "Fine. One minute," she announced glancing down at her watch. They went through the routine almost every time that Erica brought over a boyfriend… or any friend that was a boy for that matter.

"He's not good enough for her," Chandler declared instantly, his arguments already picked. Monica rolled her eyes and pushed him away, throwing her hands up in frustration.

"Chandler," she attempted to begin again, but he cut her off, wrapping his arms around her waist from behind and kissing her on the neck before she pulled away, irritated.

"My minutes not up yet," Chandler reminded smugly and Monica shook her head.

"Can I just say that my parents never approved of you?" she shot at him and he stopped trying to woe her. He placed his hands on his hips and shook his head,

"Now, see. That's not fair," he explained as if talking to a small child. Monica glared at him. "You're parents thought I smoked pot and melted miscellaneous CD's. That was entirely Ross' fault and you know that."

Monica sighed, knowing he was right but unwilling to admit the truth. "Fine," she said, knowing she should have picked a better point. He always shot it down. Every time. "They still didn't like you," she insisted.

He opened his arms and pointed to himself, "Well look at me now." Monica didn't oblige, turning on heel and heading to the kitchen to make coffee. "Besides," he continued, following her, "It's just that… I mean, Karl's- 

"Philip!" Monica cried, turning around exasperated. "How hard is it to remember Philip Chandler?!"

"Schmilip-" Chandler waved off, "Isn't good enough for her. I mean it," he added when Monica gave him a look, the one that meant he was being an over-protective father, "She doesn't mean enough to him."

"And what does that mean?" Monica snapped and Chandler backed off slightly. It wasn't that she was getting short with Chandler, she just didn't want her little girl to grow up like she did with no relationships to speak of whatsoever. Whom ever she did manage to bring over Chandler ended up ridiculing to no end and the boy ended up terrified regardless.

It wasn't exactly like her and Chandler had hit it off the second they'd met. At least Erica's boyfriends didn't accidentally call her fat during their first meeting. Not that it mattered now, anyways. She couldn't imagine her life without Chandler.

"It just… I didn't seem to me that she meant to him what you mean to me now," Chandler tired explaining, his words coming out in a jumble. Was it just him or did that only just make sense?

Monica's face softened, realizing where Chandler was coming from. "Whatever I meant to you now," she said softly, taking her cup and Chandler's over to the table, "I know I didn't mean to you before. We both know it. These things take time Chandler," she insisted, but Chandler shook his head stubbornly refusing her rationalization.

He'd learned it was better to just do what Monica told him, and he was okay with being a pushover, but this was Erica they were talking about, her future and her happiness. "Mon, James-"

"-Philip honey!" Monica practically shouted, but Chandler ignored her plowing on.

"- is Erica's boyfriend. When we first met you were my best friends little sister. This is _so_ different from that it's ridonkulous!"

"Ridiculous?" Monica corrected with raised eyebrows.

Chandler shrugged and gripped his cup, sliding it across the table while dodging Monica's glare as he left a droplet trail of water on the table. He wiped it away half-heartedly with his shirt sleeve, "Whatever. He's not the one is all I'm saying," Chandler repeated and Monica smiled, sharing a secret joke with herself. "What?" he demanded, amusement flickering in her eyes as a small giggle escaped her.

"Nothing…" Chandler looked at her. "Just- when did you become the master of relationships?" she questioned, remembered numerous nights of staying up and assuring Chandler he wasn't a failure and he wouldn't die alone, under any and all circumstances. "Who's it and not?" she clarified.

Chandler smiled, leaning in, his elbows propped on the table. Monica met him halfway – the characteristic glint of mischief that Jack had inherited, pulling the tips of his mouth to a grin. "I'm physic," he whispered mysteriously.

Monica laughed lightly and Chandler took her hand under the table, their squabble, if it could be called that, already forgiven. They never really fought, bickered lightly sometimes but only about odd little things like which direction the table should face in the morning or the fading color of their couches.

"Still," Monica said, unable to resist getting her last word in, "It's Erica's decision, and we'll stick behind her no matter who she chooses." She squeezed his hand firmly and Chandler nodded his agreement.

"Right. Unless of course he's a father-in-law killer, then I'll have to draw the line. Don't care so much about the mother-in-laws, but-"

"Shut-up," Monica teased playfully, finally closing the distance between them with a kiss.

Chandler pulled her from her seat and onto his lap, hugging her warmly. "Or we could just have this conversation instead," he suggested, kissing her again. Monica eagerly kissed him back.

It wasn't until later, when they were both lying curled up against each other in bed, that the question came to Monica's head.

"What _do_ I mean to you, Chandler?" she asked as she traced his bare chest with her fingers, looking up at him and smiling.

He opened his eyes, staring at her for a long moment before smiling lightly. He hugged her tightly and whispered quietly into her ear,

"Everything."

eEe

Monica stared at Chandler, something she was getting used to doing. No matter how often she caught herself gazing at him, she didn't tire of it. There was always something comforting looking at his face and watching his chest go up and down, up and down, up and down. Something comforting in the knowledge that his heart was still beating and he was still fighting.

"I love you," she whispered suddenly, falling forwards and enveloping Chandler in a hug. "I love you," she repeated, stronger. She crawled onto the hospital bed beside him and he groggily lifted up his arm to allow her to snuggle up closer to him.

"Nurse get pissed," he mumbled in reference to her position, remembering the last time they'd gotten caught like that. Monica laughed.

"Since when do you care?" she asked softly, running her hand down his face. Chandler smiled droopily, struggling to stay up. "Go back to bed sweetie," she whispered, and Chandler complied, his arm slowly relaxing, fading away once again into dream world.

"You mean the world to me," she whispered, placing her head on Chandler's chest and gripping his hand.

"I love you."


	6. F is for Friendship

_F is for Friendship_

Chandler watched Monica in the kitchen from the safety of the balcony. It was breezy outside but he'd forgotten to retrieve a coat from the door after his hasty escape as he recognized the signs of a slowly unraveling Monica. He quickly ducked his head as he saw Monica turn towards him, hoping that he remained undetected by the Commander in Chief of the apartment. It was 30 minutes until Scott the Sculpture arrived for his surprise birthday party, and Chandler wanted nothing to do with it.

He didn't get it. Scott rubbed him the wrong way and he didn't like it when Monica hung out with him, but Monica wouldn't listen to him. He tolerated him because Monica seemed to like him but he had a hunch that Mr. Scrotto would end up breaking her heart.

Tuning into the sounds of the apartment, he recognized Monica's voice, bellowing out orders like a Nazi C/O,

"Ross, beat the wet mix and then mix it with the dry mix now!"

"Phoebe! Stop playing that thing and watch the stir-fry!"

"Jen! Get off the phone and do… never mind. Do _not_ touch the food!"

"Carol, you're supposed to be mashing them, not splashing them! Put some muscle into it!"

"I swear Greg, next time I see you making faces I'll take this spoon and shove it up your-"

Chandler bit back a smile.

Ahh, Monica the Frantic. What a delightful treat.

He sat down against the concrete wall breathing in the wonderful scent of smog and pollution, quite pleased with himself, managing to escape like that from the chaos inside.

Someone tapped on the window above his head and he automatically shifted to his knees and looked through it.

Monica's vivid face was an inch away from his and he thought for a moment that she was going to punch through the window to get to him.

"CHANDLER!" she screamed so loudly that he could hear it crystal clear as if the pane of glass didn't exist and Monica was talking on a megaphone into his ear, "GET YOU'RE ASS IN HERE AND START CHOPPING!"

Like a startled beaver Chandler stayed frozen to the ground. Monica glared at him through a window, furious at his attempt to fly under the radar. He could see the excitement in Monica's eyes, and figured she enjoyed having this much stuff to do in such a short amount of time, though he had no idea why. Once Monica retreated to her area of dictation, his heart began resume beating. Monica shouted some threat at him and called out his name angrily, "CHANDLER!"

He crawled through the window and Ross turned to him sympathetically, "Good call," he muttered, a bowl hugged to his stomach as he manually beat some strange syrup looking liquid with a whisk. "At least one of us was saved from The Vein for a little while."

Chandler laughed at his misery, heading towards Monica to hear his assignment. "Chandler!?" she yelled, jumping a little when he appeared beside her.

"Yeah?" Chandler asked calmly taking a seat at the table. He knew it would infuriate her at how mellow he was even if he did feel out of place among all of his working friends.

Monica held up a bag of what resembled milk and oatmeal with chunks of reddish blue things. "What is this?" she demanded.

"That would be… my lunch from yesterday. I meant to hit the toilet, I swear-"

"Chandler!" Monica warned and Chandler snapped his mouth shut. No potty humor today – Monica was in that mood again. No one messed with Monica when she was in The Mood. If he looked closely enough he could see The Vein Ross had been referring to.

"Yes honey?" he asked sweetly, folding his hands and Monica ignored him.

Chandler tentatively reached out to grab the bag as Monica thrust it towards him. He held it between two fingers, scrunched his nose and moved his arm out as far as it could go. "Take this and chuck it in the shoot. I don't want it stinking up the apartment for Scott's party," Monica instructed.

He glowered darkly at the thought of Scott, "Fine," he muttered, already heading to the door. "But if it was up to me I'd rather serve it to him and hope he never came back," he muttered quietly so that Monica wouldn't hear.

The trip took less than five minutes, but when he opened the door to the apartment, it felt like it'd been longer than that. Years and years longer than that.

The bustle and activity of the kitchen had died down, Monica's intimidating presence vanished. Chandler glanced in turn at the faces of Ross, Greg, Phoebe, Jen and Carol, all of them telling him the same thing. It wasn't good news.

"Mon?" Ross called softly and Chandler's attention was redirected to the couch. Monica was sitting there motionless, dead-like. She had a phone in her hand and her voice croaked as she spoke,

"I'm going to my room," she said quietly, getting up and moving robotically across the living room towards her room. The door shut and there was suspended silence.

"What happened?" Chandler asked finally, causing everyone to break away from their immobile poses.

Ross came up to him and placed the bowl on the counter, "Scott just called. By the looks of it he's not coming tonight," Ross hinted and Chandler looked at the door concerned. If he got the signal right, it meant that Monica and Scott had broken up. If he hadn't… well, it was still a good excuse to go kill Scott.

"Someone should go in there," Carol voiced quietly but Phoebe shook her head,

"Let her be alone for a little while. She probably just wants some space. She'll come out when she's ready."

fFf

After Ross and Carol had left for home, after Greg muttered some awkward excuse about girlfriends or roommates, after Jen recited her work schedule for the next two weeks, Chandler and Phoebe were left on the couch together, watching some television show. Phoebe shifted and made a sound that was usually a signal of her discomfort, whatever the reason. Chandler glanced at her curiously.

"Don't take this the wrong way Chandler," Phoebe said, patting his leg and standing, "But if I don't get away from you pretty soon, you might come back in the next life as a toilet brush."

Chandler watched her leave and walk through the door, staring. "Oh-kay…" he muttered after a moment, turning off the TV and straightening the cushions for Monica's benefit. Usually he didn't bother, but Monica was already feeling down. She'd come out of her room once to eat, but retreated back shortly after that.

She hadn't come out since.

Chandler stood up and walked to the bathroom, closing the door so that he could wash his hands before he headed home.

Unexpectedly the door opened and Chandler yelped in surprise more then anything as it bumped into him lightly.

"Sorry," Monica mumbled, her eyes rimmed red. Chandler looked around nervously, trapped in the bathroom and clueless on what to do. "I didn't hear the water," Monica explained, turning around to leave, her zombie impersonation too much for Chandler to handle.

"Wait!" Chandler shouted a bit desperately for his own liking, but it did the trick and Monica stopped. He hesitated before stepping forwards and enveloping Monica in a hug. She seemed shocked at first, but soon after fell into him, clinging onto him and burying her face in his neck.

"Mon?" he asked softly as Monica's shoulders began to shake. He resisted every bone in his body that told him to bolt – this was one of his friends, he reminded, she'd do the same for me. "Mon, it's, it's okay," he ventured, knowing that it wasn't really okay. It wouldn't be for a little while. It usually felt good to hear nonetheless.

He patted Monica on the back awkwardly, which turned into a rubbing motion as he got the smallest bit more comfortable. He waited until Monica calmed down, "You know, this reminds me a lot of my father…" Monica pulled away from him confused; still close enough to be in his arms. "I mean, if – if I was gay," he mumbled, and Monica's raised her eyebrows, "And- you were a man. Which you're not. Obviously. You look like a man… you would _have _to look like a man to be a man-"

"Chandler?" Monica giggled and Chandler stopped.

"Ughih."

"It's okay," she whispered, placing her head on his chest and sighing deeply. Chandler relaxed a tad, glad that his babbling hadn't offended her.

"It doesn't bother you that I'm a guy?" Chandler questioned cautiously. The last thing he needed was to remind Monica and get punched or something, but Monica shook her head. "Why?" Chandler asked timidly. All the girls he'd encountered after break-ups always maintained this sort loathing of all and any men, whoever that may be. It didn't make sense to him, but then again, maybe it was just _him_.

"Because you're my friend," Monica muttered. She was drowsy and Chandler debated whether or not he should lift her up and carry her to her bed. He decided against it – he'd probably drop her half way there, and instead slowly shifting towards her room.

"Really?" Chandler questioned and Monica nodded.

"My bestest," she whispered a bit dopey and Chandler stopped for a moment. He processed her words, smiling. There was a warm feeling inside of him that he didn't necessarily like, but one he could get used to. It dawned on him that she may not be in the right state of mind and he continued towards the door, halfway across the living room.

"Why do you keep doing this to yourself?" he muttered rhetorically, dragging her almost dead-weight body towards her bed. She was almost passed out now, probably from all the drama, and he sat her down on the bed lying her back and lifting her legs onto it. "You keep setting yourself up to get pounded, I don't get it," he whispered quietly, comfortable speaking his mind while she was sleeping. He was getting it off his chest, but there was no actual conversation about feelings and… stuff, going on.

He pulled the blanket around her, crouching down to watch her for a moment. She looked so peaceful compared to the mess she'd been before. "Why Mon?" Chandler asked quietly and Monica stirred.

She muttered something and Chandler leaned forward, her words almost incoherent. He smiled as he listened, touching her head gently before muttering,

"I'll always be there for you, Mon… Cause you're there for me too…"


	7. G is for Generation

_**Thanks for all the wonderful reviews, I appreciate every single one of them. Enjoy.**  
_

_G is for Generation_

Monica inserted the coins into the vending machine, listening to the clunk of the discs as they fell down the series of metal. She had to be quick; Chandler would be waking up any second and he'd give her a hard time if he knew she was eating like this. She punched in the familiar numbers for her Kit-Kat bar and looked down the hall, knowing there was a possibility that Chandler would come find her. It wasn't exactly like he had any regard for the doctors' instructions. But she'd always had a soft spot for them bars, ever since she was little, and here she was more venerable than ever.

Stupid Kit-Kat's taking advantage of her current state.

She heard the wheels of an IV pole rolling down the hall and closed her eyes, praying the Lord it wasn't who she thought it was. "You didn't," she whispered, instinctively knowing who the owner of the pole was.

"What? I was getting really uncomfortable in there with just me and my Pole-ish boyfriend… I didn't want people to start getting ideas," Chandler whispered with an air of conspiracy. Monica turned towards him,

"Chandler! Bed rest means resting in a bed. Not roaming the halls like Heckles!" Monica scolded.

Chandler brushed her off, "Heckles was cool, and you know it!" he insisted and Monica took his hand.

"We're going back, now!" she instructed sternly. Chandler sighed,

"Yes dear," he nodded submissively, accepting the hand that Monica reached out towards him. He stopped and stared at her strangely, glancing back at the vending machine, realizing where they were. "What were you doing over there anyways?" he asked, his eyebrow raised.

Panic flashed through Monica before she remembered what day it was today. "The kids," she improvised, almost gushing at the perfection of her excuse, "I was getting candy, for the kids." She took Chandlers hand and refusing to look at him, the Kit-Kat in her pocket burning her with guilt. "What were you doing down here?" she countered, leading him down towards his room, the suspicion not yet dropped from his face.

"I woke up and you weren't there," he broke finally. "I missed you," he added shyly, giving her hand a light squeeze and Monica flushed.

"I was only gone for three minutes," she said, but Chandler shook his head, adorable as could be shuffling across the floor in his slippers and hospital gown.

"But I fell asleep four hours ago. So I hadn't seen you for four hours and three minutes. That's too long Mon," he explained seriously, smiling as she looked up at him.

Monica copied his expression, the smile contagious. Her heart ached with want to get closer but she settled for stopping and leaning over to him for a quick kiss. "That's for making you wait sooo long," she whispered and she heard a whine behind her as she pulled away.

"Mr. Chandler," the childish voice squeaked and Monica turned around to see who the newcomer was. "You were supposed to stay in bed!" it continued, Monica identifying her as Veronica, Chandler's new nurse, squirming and bouncing as if she needed to relieve her bladder.

"I'm getting him right back, Veronica," Monica consoled, pushing Chandler in front of her as they side-stepped the nurse and entered the room.

Veronica stubbornly followed after them, her voice causing her to seem constantly on the edge of tears. At first it had alarmed Monica, causing her to think that she and Chandler were causing the stress for her, but she learned that it was just the way Veronica was. "You're supposed to be resting, Mr. Chandler," Veronica insisted and Chandler grumbled something incoherent.

Monica lifted the blankets of the bed and Chandler crawled under them, settling down in the bed, "I don't see a Mr. here, Veronica. Please, Chandler's fine," he reminded, and Monica smiled at his pleading; Veronica nervously repositioned his IV and checked his vitals.

"Of course Mr. Chandler," she nodded, blowing him off and Chandler turned to Monica for sympathy. Monica rolled her eyes, freezing as Veronica turned around, hoping the young girl hadn't seen anything. "There's someone here to see you Mr. Chandler, but please," her eyes were almost the size of tennis balls and Monica worried they were going to pop, "Stay in bed!"

"Now, what if I have to go to the bathroom?"

The nurse looked like she was going to wet herself and Monica took pity on her, "We know what you mean," she reassured, and Veronica whimpered. "Could you send whoever in please?" Monica requested and Veronica literally scurried out of the room.

"I think she needs to go to the bathroom," Chandler commented and Monica scolded him.

"Leave the poor girl alone, she's only trying to do her job. Heckles would have made it easier for her," she teased and Chandler opening his mouth indignantly. He didn't get anything out, because the next second the door opened and a small boy about 6 years old came hurling through the door, clambering up on Chandler's bed excitedly.

"Grandpa!" he shouted, throwing his arms around Chandler for a hug, who returned it with almost as much enthusiasm.

"Hey kiddo! How you been?" Chandler asked, and the boy grinned,

"I got a A in English!" he announced proudly, hugging Monica from the bed before returning back to Chandler's arms. He cuddled up to Chandler, pressing his back into his side and leaning his head on his chest so he could still everyone in the room.

"That's great C.J. Really awesome," Chandler praised as Jack stepped into the room, who smiled at the image of Chandler and C.J. together, walking over to the side of the bed.

"How you feeling today, Dad?" he asked, exchanging a hug with his mother and kissing his father on the cheek. Chandler grinned,

"A million times better," he laughed, and Jack took his coat off, placing it on the chair. "I'm with Monica again after four hours and three minutes of loneliness, I've got my son and my favorite grandkiddo with me," he beamed, kissing C.J. one the head.

C.J. squirmed and corrected him, "I'm your only grandkid Grandpa."

"Not any more you aren't sweetie," Erica informed and Monica was instantly gravitated towards her eldest daughter and youngest granddaughter.

"I'm not?" C.J. asked confused and they all smiled at his question. It was adorable coming from a child of his age, and Erica handed her little girl to Monica.

"How's my baby doing?" Monica cooed and C.J. crawled away from Chandler, trying to get a look at the bundle of blankets from his spot on the bed. His hands gripped the safety rails as he hung off the edge. Chandler sat up in case C.J. lost his balance, Monica shifting closer to C.J. so he could see the child.

"This is your cousin C.J. Alexandra," Monica introduced. C.J. nodded thoughtfully, although they'd been through the introduction many times before. He always seemed amazing by the fact that this thing was actually a person whom he was related to, and that she was so tiny.

"But she's so tiny," he stated predictably, nervous and Chandler pulled him back to his lap. Monica cooed the sleeping Alexandra, Jack taking a seat on the chair and Erica perching on top of the bed.

"You were that small once," Chandler explained and C.J. curled up on his lap in awe.

"Not that small!"

"Yeah. And so was your Daddy and Auntie, and so were I and your grandma," Chandler said, but C.J. shook his head, disbelieving.

"You were never that tiny!" he insisted, but Chandler just laughed.

"Of course I was sweetie. And one day, when you or your friends have kids, they'll be that tiny as well."

C.J. looked over to his dad, who nodded his agreement. "But I'm only just five!" C.J. protested and Chandler laughed.

"We know," Chandler guaranteed, hugging him and tussling his hair.

"You want to hold him C.J.?" Erica asked, and C.J. looked up at her shocked.

"Really?" he whispered and Monica walked over. She held out the baby; when C.J. reached for her, Chandler placed his hands underneath the young boy's arms, just in case.

"It's okay," Monica encouraged as he hesitated, finally stretching out his arms and accepting the blankets. Chandler helped him hold her and Erica watched carefully as C.J. cradled the small girl against his chest.

"She's so light," he muttered offhandedly, holding her gingerly and looking down. "Hey Alex, I'm Chandler. Everyone calls me C.J. though and when you're bigger, we're gonna have so much fun playing together!"

Chandler smiled at C.J.'s comments, once again flushing at C.J.'s expanded name. He'd been so happy when Jack had called him to tell him that they were going to name their baby boy after him, he hadn't been able to get over it for weeks. Now C.J. was holding a baby, at the tender age of six, when he'd only gathered up the courage to do so in his twenties. That had been Ross' son, and now here he was, holding Monica's granddaughter and grandson in his lap. Time had sure blown by quickly – it felt like yesterday he was walking into Ross' house and unknowingly making fun of Monica.

"C.J.?" he asked, and the boy turned to look at him, his green eyes looking up brightly, so full of life and potential.

"Yeah Grandpa?"

"I love you kiddo," he muttered, pulling him in, careful to watch out for Alexandra, kissing him on the forehead softly. He never wanted to let them go. He never wanted things to change, for him to grow up and get old like he was. He wanted things to stay the same, he wanted to always be with Monica, always have his kids and family around him.

He wanted to always be there for C.J. and Alexandra, but he knew he couldn't.

"I know," C.J. said distracted, bouncing Alexandra up and down lightly. Her eyes were now open and she seemed to be enjoying it.

He bent down to place a kiss on Alexandra's forehead, absorbing the faint smile on the infants face. Soon she'd be up and about, running amok with her cousins and friends, going to collage, getting married and having kids of her own one day.

"Both of you."

He knew he didn't have much time left – he could feel it in his bones. He realized there'd been a hand in own for a little while, instantly sensing that it was Monica's. Looking over to her, he lifted her hand up to his mouth and kissed it gently, blocking out all conversation around them.

_I love you_, he conveyed silently, wishing she could see how much she meant to him, but knew there were no words that could tell the truth. It had taken him this long to find that out, and love was all he had. At least they'd left their mark in the world; they could go with peace of mind. Their sons and daughter had their feet on the ground and would be okay out there; they'd raised them right.

Monica's eyes warmed and Chandler knew she understood what he felt, trying to say the same thing back to him. She, too, through time, learned that there were no words for the emotions she experienced. She gently tightened her grip for a second,

_I love you too._


	8. H is for Home

_H is for Home_

"Mrs. Bing?" the nurse whispered quietly, very considerate of the fact Monica's husband was sleeping off another round of antibiotics, painkillers and something-or-others. Or perhaps simply not wanting to endure him conscious. They'd taken him off the IV the night before and after a hearty breakfast (home-cooked, of course), things were starting to look up.

Monica knew hope was a very dangerous thing at this point in her life, but despite all the warnings to her, from her, a little had subconsciously crept its way into her heart.

She lifted her head from Chandler's shoulder, biting her lip as the nurse looked pointedly away, staring off curiously at the rings that held the privacy curtain up. "Yes?" she asked back, taking care to not raise her voice above a whisper.

Chandler had always been the first one up to any noises of the nights; odd or not, drugged, or not. Even though they'd both developed a second sense through the early years of when their children were in distress, it was seldom that Monica was able to beat Chandler to the punch.

"As of 2:15 this afternoon, Mr. Bing has been discharged. His fluid retention is very good and Dr. Webber feels confident that no other problems should arise. Feel free to take him home at your leisure, and I hope to not see you back here again," she smiled kindly, glancing at their position on the tiny gurney before coughing once and pulling the curtains back together.

The phrase, 'I hope not to see you back here again,' rang in her ears like silver bells and she couldn't decided whether it was meant to be a nice comment or a cleverly hidden snide. She could always tell when Chandler was being sarcastic, but Betty, Betty had a way of making you second guess yourself when it came to matters of manners.

Maybe it was due to the European in her.

That must be it, Monica decided, snuggling back into Chandler's shoulders after a moment.

It was against the rules, apparently, to be sharing the bed space with Chandler. Someone along the line must have been terrified that her 105 pound body soaking wet would be too much for the small, portable bed to handle and the additional weight would cause it to strain and buckle until it reached a point of self-destruction.

Or so Chandler thought. He invited her up a couple days ago, opening his arms and flashing that irresistible grin of his. She hesitated at first, but after a little bit of coaxing caved in to his demands. It was, in fact, as uncomfortable as Chandler complained playfully on a number of occasions, but it beat the plastic chair by a long shot, and that was good enough for her.

Chandler didn't seem to realize that her hesitation didn't come from the fact that it was against the rules, or even from fear of hurting him; it came from her understanding that this would be the final straw in regards to her hope – that this simple action would make the hospital a permanent home for them.

She quietly detangled herself from his body, sliding off the bed and slipping her feet into her shoes, knowing that Chandler would soon become aware of the vacancy in his arms and awake. Packing up the room, she could feel Chandler's eyes boring into her back and she turned around with a smile.

"What are you doing?" Chandler questioned suspiciously and for a moment Monica played with the idea of lying to him, telling him that the nurses were moving their room to somewhere where he would be less 'obtrusive'.

But the real reason was too exciting to be toyed with and she couldn't do that to him, "The doctors said that we could go home whenever you woke up honey," she smiled.

Chandler stared at her, and then cocked his head to the side. She came over and kissed him lightly on the forehead and he squirmed away, observing her face. "Are you… serious?" he asked, his tone unbelieving.

"They were very impressed with your fluid retention," Monica teased and Chandler sat up, yawning.

"So we can go home?" he asked, allowing a tiny bit of excitement to show through his face.

"We can go home," Monica smiled; happy they were leaving the wretched hospital at last. It was a good place, and the staff was nice, but it was too sad to be around all the time. There was so much despair, so many people that had already given up – it would be nice to go back to their home.

For the first time in quite a while, Monica found her self reminiscing about the past, remembering the cozy apartment with purple walls…

hHh

"What are you thinking about?" Chandler's voice interrupted her and she snapped out of her daydream, placing the blanket she'd been smoothing out for the past ten minutes into the duffel bag.

She debated whether or not to tell him, "I was so pissed off at you," she stated simply and Chandler stared up at her confused. Of course he didn't know what she was talking about, not with her head thirty-plus years in the past. "I can't believe you guessed eleven. Technically it was Joey, but still, the odds, eh?"

"What are you talking about, Mon?" Chandler asked, stroking her hand and analyzing her. "Have you gone 'round the bend?" he questioned sympathetically.

Monica laughed, shaking her head, "I was remembering our apartment. In New York. The one you stole."

"You mean the one you stole from me and Joey?" he corrected playfully, getting out of the bed, pulling a pair of pants that Monica handed to him on.

"I didn't steal it. It was rightfully mine anyways," Monica shrugged, laughing at the memory. She and Rachel were so clever sometimes.

"It's too bad we had to leave it," Chandler said softly.

Monica nodded, thinking back to that day, her eyes beginning to sting from the simple memory of it.

hHh

"That was a good home," Chandler interrupted her memory from behind and she startled slightly.

"Yeah, it was…" Monica whispered. She hadn't thought about that place for years, and didn't know what had caused her to start think about it now. "I remember me, Rach and Phoebe almost set the place on fire once," she laughed.

"Twice if you count Thanksgiving, 1994," Chandler reminded.

"That was your fault," Monica denied. "My thirtieth birthday party-" she truthfully couldn't remember much of it, other then what was on the tape Ross had given her a couple years back.

"When I finally opened the door to your secret closet. Joey was convinced Richard was hidden away in there,"

"That would be a neat trick," Monica laughed, turning around and wrapping her own arms around Chandler waist. "The adoption agency lady and Joey,"

"The free porn,"

"Rachel's two birthday parties,"

"The time I saw Rachel naked,"

"Is that all you think about?" Monica demanded, "Porn and naked people?"

"Well, when that naked person was you…" Chandler trailed off suggestively, pushing her gently towards the bed.

"Chandler!" Monica reprimanded, "You're no long thirty-one, and neither am I for that matter! Besides," she grinned, "We're in a hospital, and I really don't want to achieve giving one of the nurses a heart attack so close to our departure."

"The guy above the apartment Phoebe hooked up with," Chandler continued, his eyes twinkling.

Monica shook her head, understanding what he implied, "You weren't even there, and it was disturbing!" Chandler laughed, kissing her gently. "Or the time you came home from Tulsa for Christmas for me," Monica smiled. That one of the greatest Christmas presents he'd ever gotten her to this day.

"When Ross finally figured out we were together…"

"When we found out we were getting Jack and Erica,"

"To be fair, we only knew we were getting one at the time,"

"When we started living together…"

Chandler nodded, "The time we proposed to each other…"

"Yes," Monica agreed softly, taking his hand, "I'll never forget that one."

"You alright?" Chandler asked after a moment, aware that all the talk of the past was making Monica a little nostalgic.

"Yeah," Monica nodded, leaning into Chandlers embrace, feeling tears begin to pool at the bottom of her eyes. Those had been fun years; ten years of carefree days and next to no responsibility. Before, the close proximity had made the six of them great friends, and now, even though it seemed in some ways they had deeper ties, it was nice to remember the place where they'd grown up.

"We have a pretty good place to go home to now," Chandler reminded gently, hoping to turn her mind from what was left behind.

"I remember when Erica was little and she tried to stuff a banana down the bathtub's drain," Monica laughed, shaking her head,

"When the twins crashed into the pantry door in the middle of the night, trying to get cookies,"

"Noah and his spider collection," Monica shuddered,

"Emma, Erica and Sophie and their slumber parties,"

"Jack and Mike trying to mountain bike down the stairs,"

"The first time Erica brought a boy over," Chandler scowled,

"Erica and Noah trying to make pancakes for our anniversary,"

"C.J. getting stuck in the washing machine,"

"The kids trying to hide Ritz under their beds when he was a kitten,"

"Attempting to paint the picket fence white,"

"Christmas morning before the kids wake up,"

"Falling asleep on the swinging bench on the porch,"

"The thunderstorm when Noah was six and the twins were eight, where we played Monopoly until three-"

"And then everyone fell asleep on our bed…"

"We had some pretty good times in Westchester too, didn't we…" Monica realized with a smile.

Chandler nodded, taking the duffel bag off the bed, "How about we go home and create some more, better memories," Chandler proposed, taking a seat in the mandatory wheelchair he had to take to the hospital exit.

"Invite the Geller's, Bing's, Tribbiani's and Hannigan's over for a nice little dinner," Monica suggested and Chandler's face fell. "What?" Monica asked.

"I was hopping we could do something… you know," Chandler squirmed, "More intimate."

Monica rolled her eyes, "You really do have a one-tracked mind," she commented.

"I've been in a hospital for three weeks, what do you expect?" Chandler protested, "I am a man. But I wouldn't mind hosting," he added hastily, "Rachel, Ross, Emma, Jack, Erica, Noah, Joey, Joey Jr., Phoebe, Mike, Mike Jr., Sophie, Lou and… did I forget anyone?" Chandler asked nervously as Monica rolled him down the hall.

"To tell you the truth, I don't really know…"

They were silent for a second, until Chandler couldn't contain himself for any longer, "We're going home!" he announce, triumphantly raising his hands, getting odd glances from doctors, severe glares from nurses and envious looks from other patients.

"We're going home," Monica repeated softly, smiling to herself.

Yes, she missed the old apartment with the purple walls, but…

To her, home was where her heart was at; and for the past couple decades her heart had been stubbornly attached to Chandler.

**A/N: Sorry for the long update time, but I've been up to my neck in set. I won't stop this story until it's done, so be patient, please, and reviews are always appreciated. Hope you enjoy this chapter and I have no idea when the next one will be up. **

**Thank you for those who reviewed last chapter, thank you. **

**(If anyone knows anything about politics and campaigns, message me!!) **


	9. I is for Incredible

_I is for Incredible_

"And you'll tell Daddy I said goodnight?" Noah pleaded, his eyes wide and panicked.

"Of course I will," Monica reassured, softly brushing the light blonde hair away from her youngest son's face.

"And if there're any noises, I can come sleep with you and Daddy?" he confirmed, holding Huggsie tightly. It had become a sort of tradition, passing down Joey's old, and most likely very much missed, penguin down to the children.

"Of course sweetheart," Monica smiled, her loving heart understanding what kind of condition a thunder shower could leave a young boy. "We're just across the hall if you need us."

"And Ack and Ric'll be there too?"

Monica's smile froze for a second as she imagined her, Chandler, Noah _and_ the twins attempting to squeeze onto the queen sized mattress once again. "We'll see how Jack and Erica feel about that, alright cupcake?"

"And you'll tell Daddy I said goodnight, right?" he reiterated for good measure, slowly but surely losing consciousness.

"I would never dream of forgetting it," Monica reassured once again, placing a lingering kiss on Noah's forehead as he closed his eyes.

"And you'll be right across the hall…?" he trailed off, miraculously drifting off to sleep like the child he was.

Monica loved these moments, these precious moments where she watched the perfect human beings placed under her guardianship peacefully slumber on, oblivious to the world. She lived for them, tucking her precious babies in at night, though Jack and Erica were slowly outgrowing the ritual. At least she'd always have Chandler to tuck in at night…

"I love you, you little angel of mine," she whispered, touching Noah's face lovingly one last time, kissing his cheek and properly tucking him into bed. With three children, bedtime could be hectic at the least. But there was nothing that could beat the feeling of accomplishment she felt when she sent not one, but three children off to bed content and happy with their lives.

"MOMMY!"

Monica cringed as she saw Noah's face flinch, quickly getting up and walking across the room. One down, two to go. She quietly pushed the door shut, leaving a couple inches of space in case thundershowers erupted once again over night as they had just a few days ago.

"MOMMY!" her daughter called again, in the high squeal that was most obviously not an 'indoor voice'.

She scaled down the stairs expertly, dodging the ball that lay at the bottom of the steps. It must have just gotten there and Monica had to remind herself of the screaming eleven year old and the sleeping toddler upstairs to overlook it.

"MOMM-"

"Erica Bing!" Monica warned as she entered the kitchen, her daughter turning around guilty and biting her bottom lip. "What have I told you about shouting in the house?" she questioned sternly.

Erica slouched her shoulders, her eyes downcast, "Don't do it," she muttered.

"I just got Noah to bed," Monica explained kindly, knowing Erica hadn't meant any harm, "Shouting like that's going to wake him up. If you need me you should have come to get me."

"Sorry, but Dad's almost done the swing set!" Erica pointed out the door, where sure enough, Chandler was for some reason balanced on the top of the swing set, holding onto it for dear life in one hand, a wrench in the other.

Monica looked around, her other son no where in sight, "Honey, where's Jack?" she asked slightly paranoid. She trusted Chandler to watch over the kids, but in his current position…

"He's in the bushes, trying to catch Ritz," Erica pointed.

"RITZ, GET BACK HERE!" Jack bellowed, erupting from said bushes in a semi-rage, a small tri-colored cat fleeing before him.

"Jack!" Monica admonished. She was a bit surprised to see Jack so angry at the young cat, but she attributed it to the late hour and lack of sleep. They'd had a late night and an early morning so she beckoned Jack forward when he heard her.

"Hey honey!" Chandler waved from the top of the swing set, also noticing her presence for the first time. He grinned at her, his mischievous smile, as though he knew what he was doing wasn't that smart, but also knew it was bound to get a rise from her.

Monica rolled her eyes, ushering the twins inside and closing the door. "Time for bed you two," she announced, ready for their chorus of protests.

"But it's so early," Erica complained,

"And I haven't caught Fitz yet," Jack said at the same time.

"It doesn't matter that it's early, no one got a lot of sleep last night anyways," Monica countered, turning to Jack effortlessly, "And if you yell at the cat like that, it'll only make her want to run away faster."

"But I wanted to play on the swings," Jack pouted, hanging back by the door as Monica steered Erica towards the stairs,

"Me too!" she joined in.

"Lower your voice," Monica chimed automatically. "You'll get to play with it tomorrow, go wash up. Noah's already sleeping and **no complaints**," she added seriously over their minute protests. Both trudged up the stairs, grumbling softly.

Satisfied that they weren't going to injure themselves upstairs, Monica headed to the backyard, opening the door and walking out. "Get the gremlins to sleep?" Chandler asked, lowering himself from the top bar to the ground, dangling with his arms up for a couple seconds before landing on the grass.

"Yes, and all without your help," she faked anger.

"I was busy building this!" Chandler announced proudly, gesturing to the admittedly sturdy looking swing set.

"Looks a little lopsided," Monica teased as she poked it with her finger.

"What are you doing to it?" Chandler gasped, swiping at her finger.

"Checking to see if it'll fall apart," Monica grinned.

Chandler shook his head, dropping the wrench. Monica analyzed him suspiciously as he came closer, "I think if we're testing that theory, we should use something with some authority."

"Something?" Monica asked, her eyebrows raised. There was nothing they owned that came to mind when he used those words. He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her towards him, placing a soft kiss on her temple.

"I love you Mon," he said seriously, pulling away and looking into her eyes. She could see the passion in them, the loyalty, trust and complete and utter devotion to their family.

"I love you too," she answered strangely,

"Which is why," suddenly Chandler's grip tightened as she was lifted into the air, "I hope that this swing set sustains the ultimate test of Monica!"

Her back cracked with protest and she was reminded for a second the merits of old age. It was quickly forgotten, as Chandler placed her delicately in the swinging seat. For an alarming second she thought the entire… structure, would fall into pieces, but surprisingly Chandler's workmanship held up.

"Impressive," she commented, furling her fingers around the light chain as Chandler crouched down so that he was level with her head.

He smiled, placing either hand on the chains below hers, "I know. I'm a little surprised myself," he admitted. "Beats any furniture me and Joey were able to assemble."

Chandler swung Monica lightly, back and forth, just watching the way her hair flipped around her face in the subtle wind his swinging motion was creating. He watched the way the slivers of lingering sunshine reflected off her pitch black hair, rolling down the strands as they danced in the wind. He watched the way that her wide smile caused her nose to scrunch just the tiniest amount, caused the lines around her beautiful, eloquent blue eyes to deepen ever the slightest, accenting their beauty and elegance.

"I love you, you know that?" Monica asked in a hushed whisper, her hand sliding down the chain to play with overgrown silvering ends of his hair. Even in old age he was as handsome as ever.

"I know," Chandler answered contently, "I sort of assume it's a given," he shrugged, "But it is nice to hear once in a while." Monica hit him lightly on the side of the head and he responded with a monotonous, "Ow."

"Seriously though, I could never have done any of this without you. And I wouldn't have wanted to without you. You are, honest to God, the most incredible guy I've ever met in my life. Thank you," she tipped forward and kissed him lightly on the lips.

"Ditto," Chandler said as she pulled away, his voice low and husky, somehow managing to make the word sexy. Monica couldn't resist it and leaned in for another kiss, this time deepening it, momentarily forgetting the two children awaiting good night wishes as the world melted away. The sky darkened a smidgen more as the sun began to dip below the horizon; the two lovers finally pulled away from each other.

"I love you," Chandler whispered breathlessly though the kiss hadn't been particularly long or intense.

Monica giggling slightly as Chandler's fingers tickled the sensitive skin at the back of her neck, finally resting there in anticipation for more, buried under layers and layers of hair, "Ditto," she mimicked.

**A/N: Okay. So it's summer. And I think I'll have a lot of time to write. I'm excited. Making some new stories got plenty of ideas. I hope this chapter has satisfied you all. Review if you've got the time, they're really helpful, and I like knowing that there are people out there liking it. Sorry for the long hiatus, but I'm back. So expect much more frequent updates :) **


	10. J is for Jigsaw

J is for Jigsaw

The phone rang in the living room and Monica stared at it for a second, her hands submerged in semi-dirty dish water. It rang again and Chandler called from the living room,

"Phone's ringing!"

Monica rolled her eyes, pulling her hands away from the enjoyable task and turning on the tap to quickly rinse them. They had been home for almost two days and had already fallen into the regular routine of Chandler lounging around whenever he could get away with it and helping Monica out whenever he couldn't.

"Still ringing!" he called again in unison with the next phone ring.

"Did the television tell you that?" she called back, picking the phone up, the very end of the ring cutting off. "Hello?"

"Hey Mom," Jack said breathlessly through the phone. He sounded like he needed to be somewhere fast.

"Hiya honey, how are you?"

"Good," Jack snapped back, not rude but rather rushed, "How's Dad?"

Monica glanced into the living room, Chandler hunched over in the lazy-boy, carefully putting a sizable puzzle together, his legs crossed in a wholly feminine manner, "He's doing as well as one can do, but my senses are telling me that it wasn't why you called."

"Yeah, uh," Jack sputtered out. Monica grinned, shaking her head slightly; he could never manage to hide his true motives from her when he was young and still hadn't perfected the art. "How'd you-, never mind. Tiffany's coming by to drop of C.J., is that alright?"

"What happened?" Monica asked darkly, fearing for the worse. Although Chandler and she never minded watching any of their grandchildren, Jack and Tiff usually asked them first as a courtesy. She knew Tiff very well, probably better then most mothers knew their daughter-in-law's, and therefore knew that Tiff would have the decorum to ask before heading over.

Jack noticed her tone and quickly backpedaled, "It's nothing bad Mom; Jamie's having her baby now and apparently refuses to do anything without Tiff there."

"Then why aren't you taking C.J. down here?"

"She was dropping him off at daycare- it was just quicker this way. You don't mind, do you?" he added as an afterthought.

"Not at all," Monica smiled as the doorbell rang, "I think that's them now," she said heading towards it, "Tell Jamie that I wish her all the best and give her my congratulations. Tell her I'll have to meet the precious thing soon, too. And that I-"

"Mom?" Jack interrupted delicately, "I really got to go. Do you mind?"

"No, of course, just-" the line went dead and Monica sighed, opening the door. C.J. stood in front of her, his back slightly towards her, waving good-bye to his mother, who took one look at Monica and sped away.

"Hey Granma," C.J. smiled, holding his bag in one hand and looking up with his big green eyes.

"Hi C.J., how are you today?"

"Good. Mommy said that Aunty Jammy's having a baby. Is that true?" he asked bashfully, entering the house and putting his bag neatly by the shoe stand.

"Yeah, Aunty Jamie's having a baby," Monica confirmed, stooping down slowly to help C.J. untie his shoe laces.

"A baby like Ally?" he asked, referring to his weeks old cousin.

Monica nodded, putting away his shoes, "Yes, a baby just like Alexandra." C.J. nodded, content with this, following Monica into the kitchen. "You want anything to eat, or drink?" It was early in the morning, and she didn't know if C.J. had eaten at home or was going to eat at the daycare. He shook his head but Monica took out a small carton of orange juice anyways, pouring three it into two glasses and a sippie cup.

C.J. sat down on the chair with Monica's help, watching her thoughtfully as he played with his cup. "Granma," he asked slowly, thinking which words he wanted to use to say what he was thinking, "If you and Grandpa were babies once, and if Daddy and Mommy were babies once, and if Aunty Jammy's having a baby; where would babies come from?"

Almost choking on her orange juice, Monica was saved from attempting to explain that particular… 'from' by Chandler, who entered the room, immediately heading over to C.J.,

"Where's my favorite grandkiddo?" he demanded with a wide grin, engulfing C.J. in his arms, the small boy disappearing into Chandler's body.

"Grandpa!!" C.J. shrieked, giggling, and Monica watched the two.

Chandler was slowly beginning to get stronger, but she could tell that the disease, whatever it was, was getting to him. He had a slight limp when he walked now as he was no longer supported by the dreadful 'pole-ish' boyfriend of an IV he had back at the hospital.

The doctors said to her that this time it would be a while until he would once again need the services of the hospital, so for the time being, she tried to let go the worry and just enjoyed being home with him. Falling asleep in his arms, an act which she had yet to grow tired of. She loved when they were at home like this; without the constant bustle and beeping of the hospital that kept reality upfront and present.

"I didn't know you were here C.J.," Chandler said, his comment and confused gaze directed towards Monica. He wasn't at all against surprise visits from family, but at such an early hour in the morning, with no warning?

"Jamie's having her baby," Monica explained and Chandler's brow furrowed for a second as he attempted to remember who Jamie was. "Tiff and Jack's friend?" she said and recognition suddenly passed across Chandler's face,

"OH! Her! She's been pregnant for a while, hasn't she?" he mused out loud.

Monica rolled her eyes, "Only for the past nine or so months."

Chandler stuck his tongue out at her, causing her to once again roll her eyes. C.J. laughed between the both of them, clapping his hands a couple times. "How about we," Chandler suggested, lifting C.J.'s still manageable body from the chair, "Go to the living room and let Granma finish cooking."

"Will she come with us later?" C.J. asked after a moment.

"Yep, just as soon as she's done," Chandler promised, feeling something in his back crack and deciding it'd be safer for both him and C.J. if the latter's feet were firmly planted on the floor. "Come-on," he said, taking C.J.'s hand and leading him away, "You can help me with my puzzle!"

Monica smiled for what felt like the thousandth time that day. It was only a couple hours into the morning and already she'd smiled more than she had for the entirety of Chandler's hospital stint. Watching Chandler walk hand in hand with their grandchild ignited a feeling in the pit of her stomach that she couldn't even explain. It was a feeling she reckoned only grandparents felt, a feeling that sent a wave of warmth down her spine.

Turning back to her dishes, thankful that Chandler had whisked C.J. away so she could focus; she wondered how Chandler would react if he got the question, 'Where do babies come from?' That would probably be a bad day for all of them.

It wasn't soon before everything was done and she removed her gloves, walking to the edge of the kitchen. Chandler and C.J. were working on the puzzle 'get-well-soon' gift from Ross together, Chandler helping C.J. navigate through the small pieces,

"That piece goes here cupcake," Chandler corrected gently, taking hold of C.J.'s hand and guiding it to its rightful spot, "You're getting closer though," he encouraged.

C.J. shrugged, taking another piece and looking through the puzzle thoughtfully, "Why is it called a jigsaw puzzle Grandpa?"

"Because all these little pieces have jagged edges," he explained, fingering the edge as he held it up for C.J. to see, "And because it's a puzzle; you have to find edges that fit perfectly with each other to make the picture complete." He found the complementary piece for the piece he was holding and snapped them together.

C.J. took the two pieces from Chandler, tracing the indent with his finger. "So the pieces that fit together are like you and Granma?" he asked thoughtfully after a second.

Chandler stopped searching the scattered pieces, glancing over at C.J., "What do you mean kiddo?"

"Well, the different jigsaws," he pointed to the pieces, "You said they had to fit perfectly with each other, and they'll make the picture complete… like you and Granma, right?" he said, picking one up and attempting to squish it into another piece.

Chandler smiled softly and kissed the top of C.J.'s head. "You're totally right sweetheart," he agreed quietly,

"It's not fitting!" C.J. cried in frustration, almost ready to throw the piece across the room. These pieces were smaller and had more curves and lines than the ones he saw the other kids playing with. It was a lot harder for him to find their place.

Chandler took his hand again and looked at the piece than at the board, "How about we do it together then," he suggested and C.J. nodded.

"Alright," he grinned, frustration gone, replaced by excitement and happiness. Chandler guided his hand to the right place as he did before and C.J. squealed, "I got it! Look how well it fits together Grandpa! Like it was made to fit like that!" he observed, grinning at his accomplishment.

Sensing Monica's presence he turned his head and saw her leaning against the door, an absent smile plastered on her face. He wondered how long she'd been there and smiled, "That's because it was made to fit like that," he said to C.J., his gaze solely on Monica. She looked straight at him, the room becoming a little blurry as Chandler added,

"They were made to fit perfectly with each other."


	11. K is for Kiss

_K is for Kiss_

Monica ran through the grocery isle, her hands spread away from her body, pretending to be an airplane. "Whoosh!" she giggled as she navigated around the corners, the adults moving away to give her room to play. Her brother was in school and her mom was shopping for food so she was finally free. Free to be whatever she wanted- a plane, a bird, a hiker or a boat. Anything.

"Vroom!" she shouted to her self as she turned another corner. Her adventure as a plane was cut short as she hit a solid object, truly became airborne for a couple of seconds before crashing to the floor.

There was a second where she was still running through the isles, but everything that had happened soon came to her in a rush and she felt the impact of her body hitting the floor on her knee. The pain seemed to overwhelm her tiny nervous system and she screwed up her eyes, clutching the area of origin.

"M-m-mommy," she whimpered quietly, screwing up her eyes and preparing to wail for her mother.

"Are you okay?" a high voice asked and Monica halted her hysterics for a second.

"Who is you?" she asked in a soft voice and what seemed to be a boy, a little older than her, looked away.

"I'm me," he answered shortly, sitting down to be on the ground with her. "You hurt?" he asked and Monica nodded,

"Owie," she elaborated, pulling up her pant. Her knee was a little red and the boy scrunched his nose, showing his teeth,

"That hurts?" he asked.

Monica nodded again, "Yeah," she whispered confused by the boy. He looked as older than her as her brother did, and whenever he got an owie he cried harder than she did.

"That would only hurt babies," the boy said knowingly, poking at it.

"Stop!" Monica cried, slapping his hand away, the pain forgotten. "Would not!" she protested.

"Would too!"

Monica folded her arms, crossing her legs, "You're a meanie-head!" she declared and the boy shrugged,

"Least I'm not a cry baby!"

"I'm not a cry baby!" Monica protested, already feeling tears welling up in her eyes.

"Mhm, right. My dad said that even the people my mom writes about don't cry as much as you do."

"Do not!" Monica protested once again, the fact that this boy's father didn't even know her not crossing her mind once.

"Who taught you to cry like that?" he teased, "Your brother? I bet he's a loser."

Despite the usual resentment she felt for her brother, Monica discovered that she felt it vital to defend his image from this older child, "He's not. He's a miracle child!" she proclaimed proudly, although her mother's raving about the fact was slowly getting old.

"Miracles aren't real. They're for idiots and stupid people."

Monica frowned. She had grown up in a Jewish family, and during Hanukah they were always talking about miracles and God's gifts and stuff. The suggestion that miracles didn't exist was a foreign idea to her. "What about Hanukah?"

For a second she didn't think she'd get an answer, but the boy shook his head, "You just don't know anything yet." He stood up and Monica quickly followed suit. He looked at her annoyed but the look went right over her head,

"I know stuff," she said in her most grown up five-year old voice.

"No you don't," the boy repeated as he begun to walk away.

Monica followed him closely, waving her hands to get his attention. "What?" he asked her after a second, irritated.

"You don't know stuff," she huffed and the boy laughed at her. She could feel her cheeks getting red from the sinking feeling in her stomach.

"I'll always know more than you do,"

"How?"

"Cause I'm older than you," the boy answered, assuming it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"Not fair!" Monica protested, pushing the boy into a pile of cans. The cans toppled all over him and she glared at him, frustrated. She couldn't help being younger than him. All of a sudden she was wishing she was grown up, wishing that she could prove this dumb kid wrong.

The boy was slowly finding his way out of the cans, a crowd of adults gathering around them, "What'd you do that for?" he demanded.

"Not fair!" Monica repeated and the boy stood up, dusting himself off exaggeratedly.

"You didn't have to push me!"

"Meanie-head!"

"Potty-feet!"

"Smelly bum!"

"Patty too Fatty!"

"I'm not fat!" Monica objected, balling up her fists.

Their PG fight was broken up as a women coming up from behind the boy, "Oh dear, what have you gone and done now?" she demanded lightly. Monica stared at the woman, wondering how her clothes were able to remain attached to her body.

"She started it," the boy mumbled, his confidence instantly dissolving.

"What could such a pretty young lady possibly do to you?" the woman asked and Monica smiled slightly- she said she was a lady.

"She crashed into me," he explained softly, and Monica could hear her name being called through the store.

"Did not!" Monica protested, her face pulled into a pout.

"Apologize to the young lady," the woman requested, putting a hand on the shoulder. The boy shrugged away from her, shoving his hands deep into his pockets and looking down,

"I don't apologize to whales," he muttered softly, and Monica wasn't even sure she heard him right.

"What did you say?" the lady asked curiously and the boy looked determinedly at the ground,

"I'm not going to apologize for something that wasn't my fault," he answered cheekily, turning slightly away from who Monica gathered to be his mother.

"Apologize now, so we can get you to that horrendous father of yours and his latest boy-toy."

"You're not going to leave me with them, are you?" the boy asked, suddenly pleading. Monica observed the exchange curiously.

"You don't expect me to lug you all the way around the world, do you?" she asked sharply. Monica frowned; even her mom wasn't so mean to her.

"You lug that stupid dog around everywhere," the boy returned darkly and the woman gripped her purse tightly.

"Apologize to the girl right now," she ordered in a voice Monica had long since understood as not to be messed with.

"I'm sorry," the boy grumbled uncomfortably and Monica remained silent as the lady placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Good. Now let's get going,"

"Not," he muttered under his breath, not even bothering to give Monica a backward glance. Monica watched them walk away, feeling bad and sorry for the boy. He didn't seem happy and she suddenly wanted to put her arms around him and give him a hug to make him feel better, like her daddy did when she was hurt. He would hug her and kiss her owie better.

"Monica?!" Monica heard her mother yell and turned around, instantly engulfed in her arms. "Don't you ever do that to me ever again!" Judy warned and Monica nodded.

The last thing Monica thought before the encounter with the strange boy already erased from her mind was how all she wanted to do was kiss his heart better.

**A little apprehensive about this chapter, so review and tell me what you thought. Sorry 'bout the delay- got about a million other ideas floating around that refuse to offer a beginning. Hope you enjoyed it. **


	12. L is for Love

_L is for Love_

Erica called Jack from the floor of the room, waving him up to the window. Their parents were sitting on  
the swing set in the backyard, her mom sitting on her daddy's lap, their arms wound around each other,  
admiring the sunset in a perfect Kodak moment.

"Come see," she encouraged and Jack sighed deeply, hoping that the gesture would convey to his sister  
how much he _didn't_ want to do that.

He reluctantly stood up and crawled onto the bed, prodded by Erica's piercing glare. Placing a foot on the  
railing of the bed, he hoisted himself up to the window, peering through the white curtains,

"What are Mommy and Daddy doing?" he asked in slight disgust, his nose wrinkled from not only the  
window it was pressed up against.

"They're in love," Erica answered confidently and Noah clambered up onto the window sill beside them,  
determined not to be left out,

"Yeah Ack. They're doing love," he repeated, neither bothering to correct the three year olds understanding  
of the word,

"They're love."


	13. M is for Merge

_M is for Merge_

"Hey Mon?" Chandler's holler filled the house.

Monica rolled her age-old eyes and glared up at the ceiling. She didn't understand how a man who used to smoke like a chimney and whose sickness was showing no signs of remission had the lung capacity for such projection day in and day out.

"MON!" he yelled again through the house and Monica put down the plate she'd been rinsing, slowly peeling off one moist, yellow glove at a time, placing them delicately on the edge of the sink. She turned off the tap water deliberately, cranking it to cold so that no one would burn their hands later on.

"SERIOUSLY Mon! Come up here!"

Chandler's calls only caused her to slow her progress; she wanted it to be clear that after more than 30 years of living together, it was STILL inappropriate to yell in the house like a child. Heading through the doorway and placing a hand on the bottom rail for support, she started up the stairs, picking up the hem of the old-lady dress she'd never thought she'd wear off the ground, taking one steady step at a time.

"MOOOONICAAAAA!!" Chandler whined loudly but Monica still refused to pick up the pace.

When she reached the landing has allowed her hands to trail along the pale purple middle boards of the walls, a testament to the old apartment nestled in the heart of New York City. Pictures of her and Chandler, their daughter and sons, and of their daughters and sons and wives and husband, and of their old tightly-knit group and their daughters and sons all littered the wall, spaced artfully at random intervals.

Blue eyes rested on one particular picture that seemed to capture their interest like no other. It was a picture that she hadn't seen before, in a place she'd previously thought to be vacant.

It was a picture of her and Chandler kissing, probably when the twins were five or six, their mouths hidden behind the pole that bore a large 'MERGE' sign. In a flood, the memory came back to her.

mMm

"Monica," Chandler asked, his fingers gently intertwined in hers as they walked down the path. This physical touch was all it took for him to understand that he'd never be alone- that he'd have Monica for the rest of his life. It was all it ever took.

"Yeah hon?" Monica murmured, her voice dripping with weariness. They had been walking for a good five hours, wandering aimlessly along the beach, taking in the sights, the smells… each other.

The last part meant that she was figuratively dead after a rather heated and passionate version of 'taking in'. She had been ready to fall asleep with her heels in the warm water and her body in Chandler's arms when they narrowly avoided another disturbing and eternally scaring jellyfish incident; hastily beginning to cover up the considerably vulnerable and previously exposed areas in case someone happened to walk by.

"Remember when we were first going to move in together?"

Monica nodded, suppressing a yawn, "When Rach and me had that fight?"

"You and Rachel had a fight?" Chandler asked, his eyes wide.

Rolling her eyes Monica nodded, too lazy to properly respond. It wasn't her fault that Chandler was a guy and could therefore genetically not understand or detect any type of distress that girls normally could. At least he still sort of got it when it was obvious. Or, at least when it came to her. He had that uncanny ability she found unnerving; the one that allowed him to feel when she was feeling insignificant or depressed or bothered or anything out of the ordinary. She pulled his arm over her shoulder, cuddling up into his warm chest as they walked.

"We already did it once Mon, you're going to actually get stung if we try it again," Chandler warned and all Monica's previous thoughts on his connection to her faded away. "And I don't want to-"

He attempted to continue but Monica put her foot down, "Do not finish that sentence Chandler Bing," she warned and Chandler laughed at her seriousness. "I was cold," she informed him, playfully jerking his arm lightly.

"Ow!" he protested in fake pain, spinning Monica around forcefully so she fell forward into his waiting arms. He smiled at her for a second, just looking into her face before he kissed her, softly, on the mouth. He tilted his head and kissed her softly on the neck. "And I knew that," he whispered softly, his breath on her ear causing her to shiver involuntarily. His hand was in her hair, playing with the dark strands that buried his fingers.

"Lair," she teased him, resting her arms on his shoulders and playing with a tuff of hair stubbornly sticking out of his sweater. "Mullet man," she jibbed again before he could answer and he pulled away with, feigning offense.

"Who you callin' Mullet man, checker boards?" he asked with an eyebrow raised to show it was all in good fun.

Monica laughed, slipping away from him and taking his hand once again. It felt so natural to her that she didn't even think once about it. "Let's go sweet-heart; I think that lake air is getting to your head,"

"Nah," Chandler disagreed, "It's just my infatuation with you. I cleverly disguise it within all these biting remarks with hopes that one day you'll be mine."

"I've always been your's though," Monica pointed out, a surprising amount of truth behind the statement.

"Which brings me to my question," he started, winking in her direction. "You know when we first moved in?"

"And Rach and I had that fight?"

Chandler shook his head, laughing, "We've been over that already. But remember how I wanted to get that sign, for our first bed together?"

Monica scrunched her face up in concentration. As hard as she tried, she couldn't recall anything about a sign in those early days. It probably wasn't the lounger he was talking about, because they compromised on that. The most likely cause of her lack of recollection was that his idea had probably been so horrible she rejected it immediately and forced herself to wipe away the memory. "What sign?" she asked.

"A merge one?"

"Like one of the traffic signs?" Monica questioned, horror suddenly beginning to set onto her mind. Wisps of their conversation, if it could even be called that, came crawling back to her at a snails pace.

"I was wondering if you'd-"

"Chandler!" Monica shrieked in distress, "We are _not_ getting a MERGE sign for our bedroom, and that is THAT!"

Chandler backed off quickly, as far as he could go while Monica held his hand hostage in a death grip. "Alright, alright! Sheesh, I was just wondering…" he trailed off, pouting. In a second his expression turned into one of mischief and Monica looked too see what had caused the change.

"Chandler-" she warned but she didn't have a chance to get the full warning out before she was being pulled toward the offending traffic sign.

A finger silenced her protest, Chandler opening his mouth, "If I can't have the real thing, at least let me take the picture," he compromised and Monica sighed deeply but coincided to his demand.

mMm

She remembered the picture now, although it was so old she was surprised that it hadn't faded any more than it had. It seemed to be new.

"Monica!"

Stopped in the middle of the hallway with her gaze fixed firmly on the framed photo, Monica wasn't surprised when Chandler called her name. She was, after all, diddle-dawdling.

The thing that plucked a note of fear in her heart and caused her breath to catch mid inhale was the struggling, hushed voice he used to call it. She easily tore her eyes away from the picture as she hurried down the hall, running as fast as her old bones allowed her to. The hope that he was simply getting impatient and attempted to trick her into coming faster flattered as a groan emitted from behind the closed door.

She felt in her heart what it truly was, almost as if they shared a link when it came to his pain. "Chandler, I'm coming!" she shouted just before she turned the knob. The door swung open and bashed into the doorstop, causing the spring to vibrate violently.

Sure enough, there was Chandler, curled up on the bed, clutching his side as he struggled to complete his shallow breaths. "Oh God," Monica whispered, tears beginning to pool in her eyes. She bit her lip, forcing them back.

The memory of moving across the room escaped her and suddenly she was beside him, stroking his bristling hair and gripping his arm like it would do anything to his state. "Chandler," she whispered, mortified.

Chandler's eyes were squeezed shut in attempt to deal with the pain that was inevitably ripping him apart inside. His knees were curled up as close as he could get them to his body, placing him in an uncomfortably familiar fetal position. Monica was paralyzed as she listened to him struggling to get oxygen into his weak lungs, jerking every couple seconds, his arms wrapping around his stomach firmly.

"Chandler," Monica whispered; her resolve to fight the tears that had threatened to come ending abruptly as they erupted from the corners of her eyes. "Don't do this," she pleaded, unsure how to help him. Her shaking hands rocked from his face to his arms to his legs to his body as she tried to touch him everywhere at once. "Chandler, please," she couldn't bear the sight of him like this, the helplessness she felt. It was ripping her apart, tearing her, snapping all the strings she'd set up in preparation for something like this. "Say something," she begged, desperation filling her throat and threatening to close it up.

Chandler shook his head so violently that Monica was afraid he was having a seizure. Time stood still as she watched his muscles spasm, feeling her own body ache beside him. All logical thoughts flew from her mind and she was hopelessly useless next to him. Allowing him to endure his suffering.

"Call," he mumbled painfully though gritted teeth. It was the one word he could get out and Monica cooled her head. It meant that he was still there and aware of what was going on. He was still alright. He was still with her.

"Stay right here honey, I'm going to go call an ambulance," she said the words but she couldn't bare the thought of leaving him alone. Her hands lingered on his face but the next spasm of whatever that hit him hard and forced her to understand it was her duty to him to call. "I love you baby, I love you and I'll always be with you," she whispered into his ear, kissing it quickly. She quickly kissed his head on her way back up and ran out the door with agility she didn't know she possessed.

On the floor, forgotten in the insanity, lay a large yellow sign, five black letters shinning in the light of the room.

**A/N: I hope you liked (I think that's an appropriate word) the chapter and don't hate me too much. I realize once again that I don't thank all you kind reviewers enough; although there is no way that I would be able to articulate my gratitude, for which reason it is often left unexpressed. I'd like you to know just how much I appreciate your support of this story and my writing in general, but I don't believe I could come up with an eloquent phrase that would be worthy of it. So I'm going to settle for these simple words;**

**Thank you.**

**On another note, I'm back from vacation and have the rest of the alphabet planned out, and while I'm not promising anything, because most of these chapters are spur of the moment, created-between-11:30-p.m.-and-2:30-a.m. sorts of things. Like this chapter. But I will get this done. That is a promise. **

**Thank you so much again for your kind and wonderful words, each and every one is deeply appreciated. **

**- Pretty sure this is one of the longest A/N I've had so far… sorry! Lol, you didn't have to read all of it XP**


	14. N is for Neurotic

_**N is for Neurotic**_

"Okay, who knows?"

"Uh… no one yet?"

"…"

"Joey?"

"How does Joey know?"

"… Let's just say that there was beer and Baywatch involved."

"Chandler…"

"What? He had the box set! And he's not the only one!"

"Well, who else knows?"

"Rachel!"

"What?"

"Yeah! I heard you two talking!"

"When?!"

"She found it in the trash can, remember?! _She knows_!"

"Can you please not use that voice, it always freaks me out…"

"But she _knows_."

"Alright, Chandler, that's really creepy."

"Fine. But she knows."

"She doesn't know that we know, though."

"Wait, what? She doesn't know that we know?"

"No."

"Unless… Joey told her that we know she knows."

"You told Joey that we know that she knows?"

"Well, he knew, right?"

"So Joey knows that we know that Rachel knows, and he told Rachel that we knew she knew so now she knows that we know that she knows?"

"Yes! But, now we know that she knows that we know that she knows!"

"Chandler?"

"Yeah Mon?"

"I have this odd feeling we've done this before…"

"Yeah, that's an awful lot of 'knows' and 'knew's' in one sentence."

"No, that we've actually… done this before."

"I think you're right…"

"Why don't we just tell them this time? I'd be so much easier,"

"Well, we don't want to tell Ross, because Ross will tell your parents, and they'll think it's a miracle, which is-"

"The last thing I need right now."

"Right. And we can't tell Pheebs yet cause then she'll feel the need to, y'know-"

"Cleanse and… stuff?"

"Yeah. And we can't tell Jack-"

"Cause he'll feel morally bound to tell Erica,"

"And Erica will go around the whole block and tell everyone we know that…"

"Yeah."

"So that's why we can't tell anyone."

"Except Joey."

"And Rachel."

"You know what?"

"What?" Chandler asked, looking Monica in the eye. But he already knew what she was thinking; it felt like they'd thought of it at the same time. He grinned, "That the doctor's given the go-ahead and-"

Monica confirmed with a nod, "Exactly."

"Jack!" Chandler called up and Monica winced beside him.

"Chandler, could you not-"

"Yell in the house?" he asked, cutting off her reprimand. "I could try," he smiled; kissing her quickly on the mouth before the twins could be heard thundering down the stairs like a herd of elephants.

"Coming!" Jack yelled at the bottom of the stairs, launching himself at Chandler's leg. Chandler winced as Jack squeezed his thigh tightly, his other being attacked by Erica. "I won!" Jack bellowed triumphantly, Erica screaming back,

"You cheated!"

"Hey, hey," Chandler intervened, lifting Erica up into his arms and putting a hand on Jack's head, "How about we call it a tie?"

"But he cheated!" Erica pouted, ever the model sportswoman.

"Did not!" Jack protested,

"Did too!" Erica argued back.

"Did not-"

"Did too-"

"Stop it you two," Monica demanded, frowning at their sibling rivalry. "Either you both win or you both lose or you both go to your rooms for shouting in the house."

Jack's eyes widened at the mention of rooms, "We both won," he coincided, at the same time Erica said,

"But Daddy was shouting in the house too."

Monica gave Chandler an exasperated look, unseen by their twins, shaking her head, "Well then, maybe Daddy'll end up going to his room as well."

"But we want to play with Daddy," Jack stated, hugging his father tightly.

"Yeah," Erica said, tugging on Chandler's arm so that he'd sit down on the floor.

"Alright," Chandler sighed, overdramatically landing on the ground in a huff. "But first, we have something to tell you."

Looking up at Monica to continue, he saw she was seconds away from tears, and mysteriously so.

"What?" Erica prompted but Chandler didn't hear her, confused by Monica's emotions.

Monica felt the first tear slip through her eyelids and smiled ruefully. There was Chandler, her husband, sitting on the floor surrounded by her children, looking up at her as if she was the most important thing in the world.

The picture perfect man in the picture perfect scene she'd always imagined would be her life one day. And now there was going to be one more thing that would make it all the more perfect, and her only regret- if it could even be called that- was that it didn't happen sooner. That she didn't realize how much of… everything Chandler was until that faithful day in London, and the subsequent weeks that followed.

"What, Daddy?" Erica asked greater determination, Jack echoing her frustrations.

Chandler's concerned eyes were only on Monica at that moment, knowing she wasn't upset but still wanting to figure out what was causing the tears so he could make them go away.

"Daddy!" Erica all but yelled, seconds away from throwing a temper tantrum.

"Erica," Monica interrupted, stomping the flame out at its source. She knelt down to the ground and Erica went to her, also confused by the tears.

"Mommy, what's wrong?" she asked softly, subduing herself.

"Mommy's alright. She's just… pregnant."

Chandler smiled widely at the admission, Jack and Erica simply staring at her blankly.

"What does that mean?" Jack asked, settled in his Dad's lap.

"It means that you and Erica are going to be having a little brother or sister in a couple months," Chandler explained as Jack leaned back to look at him and Erica turned her face toward him.

"Like… another Jack?" Erica asked after a moment, still attempting to wrap her head around the prospect of another child.

"Sort of," Monica said, hoping the twins wouldn't get the wrong idea, "But he'll be really little at first. And he'll probably be a lot different than Jack is. And you are."

"Where is he coming from?" Jack asked. Monica and Chandler smiled at each other.

"From my belly," Monica said, taking Erica's hand and gently placing it on the small bump she'd been developing.

"Did you swallow a watermelon seed?!" Jack asked in genuine horror and Chandler couldn't help but hid his laughter with a series of very violent coughs that caused Jack to be uprooted from his position on Chandler's lap.

Monica shook her head, accepting Jack with her free arm, Chandler's cover-up coughs transitioning into actual choking-coughs. "I didn't swallow a watermelon seed Jackie; we just thought it would be nice for you two to have someone else to play with and share with."

"Okay," Erica said thoughtfully. She nodded her head once, "Okay."

"Okay," Jack mimicked, placing his hand where Erica's had vacated.

"Okay," Monica smiled, kissing both her children on the head, before smiling at Chandler, who was red in the face from laughter, who also concluded with a nodding,

"Okay."

For once in her life, Monica was happy that one of their biggest secrets since their midnight romance was going to be unraveled, and she wasn't even worried that it was going to be her toddler daughter that did the unraveling, however untidily. Because she was tired of tiptoeing around and of trying to figure out who know and who didn't know and who had the upper had because they knew the other group knew they knew.

Because for once in her life, she didn't really find herself caring that much about what other people thought of her. And because the only people whose opinion mattered to her were already in the room, with her. And they would love her no matter what.

**A/N: Sorry if the beginning was too different, I just couldn't resist. And sorry for that innuendo in there didn't mean for that to happen. But the Rugrats prevailed. Sorry for the long lapse in updates, make sure you check out "L is for Love" if you haven't already, thank you Marcel, and please review. And tell me you aren't mad at me. Please. And thank you. And now it's quarter after one and I must be up in five hours for school. **

**Hope you enjoyed, and please review.**


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